Corvus Black
by Firazh
Summary: What could be worse than a nightmare? Waking up to discover that it is reality, of course. And when the reality includes a new set of entirely unsuitable parents as a birthday present, Harry Potter starts an unexpected new life. AU: sixth year and the summer before.
1. Rude Awakenings

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements are gleefully borrowed from J. K. Rowling. They should really be used to it by now. Although Harry Potter may feel more than usually abused by who his parents turn out to be _this_ time ... 

oOooOoOoOo

Harry Potter was dreaming. In his dream, he had been wandering around the ominously silent house, the silence only broken by his own shuffling steps and soft breathing, and the occasional faint creak of old wood settling. It was so quiet that he imagined he could hear the spiders shuttling about. Slowly making his way through empty rooms he had finally come to the library, where the books whispered the night away, softly talking amongst themselves with their dry, fluttery pages.

A pool of light had drawn his attention to the Black family tapestry hanging on the wall between the two bow windows, the candles around it dancing and pooling in melted wax and alternatively casting light and shadows over the golden edged embroideries. A curious impulse had pulled him over. The old thing was full of unpleasant names, and one that reminded him of his own guilt and loss. Sirius Black. Died on the 18th of June, 1996. Died because of Harry Potter's inability to keep Voldemort out of his head.

Helpless tears ran down his face as he stared at the name, guilty feelings twisting his inside into knots. Harry felt like his heart was breaking in anguish. He heard a clock strike a measured twelve strokes. They fell like the strokes of doom. Midnight. It was his birthday now. He should go and find a window to let Hedwig in. But even as he started to turn away, his eyes were arrested by movement. A spot on the tapestry was rewriting itself before his tear-filled eyes, stitches appearing by magic. He felt transfixed as he watched with an increasing feeling of horror.

There was a new name there now. Corvus Black. Born on the 31st of July, 1980. Still alive. Harry's breath caught. His eyes traced the line of descent upwards. Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. Bellatrix had a son. A son who had been born on the same day as himself, and who was still alive, according to the tapestry. His hands raised involuntarily, and touched his hair. His hair, which had suddenly grown longer and felt all curly. He lifted a strand. Curly and even darker than it used to be. His eyes met his own in a mirror that had appeared out of nowhere. Black eyes met terrified black eyes gazing back at him.

oOooOoOoOo

Harry Potter came awake with the start of a scream on the couch in the sitting room, where he had fallen asleep reading a book. There was an insistent pecking noise coming from the window, and a flutter of wings as several owls tried to get his attention. He went and let them in, still trying to calm his racing heart. Only it wouldn't calm. Something still felt off. The sense of wrongness and foreboding left behind by his nightmare refused to leave him.

He relieved the owls of their burdens, thanking them quietly, stroking feathers and offering them treats before sending them away, their duty done. Hedwig remained a moment longer, stroking her head against his cheek. He finally sent her off to hunt for mice. But he could not bring himself to open his presents. He felt horribly unsettled, and the nightmare, though fading, still refused to leave him alone. He had an almost desperate need to reassure himself that everything was as it should be. So he went to find a mirror. He needed to look at his own reflection, to see the green eyes stare back defiantly, to know he was himself.

oOooOoOoOo

Remus Lupin came awake instantly as a scream tore the silence of the old house. Heart pounding, he sat up, trying to orient himself. After a moment, he quickly slipped out of the bed and grabbed the robe he had earlier tossed onto a chair, before making for the door. He wrenched it open. But all was silent again. Wait no, there was the faint sound of … desperate sobbing? He tore down the stairs barefooted, still shrugging on the robe, as he followed the trail of sound towards its source.

oOooOoOoOo

Urgent calls from the fireplace in his study woke him from an uneasy slumber. Severus Snape blearily opened his eyes. Grumbling, he slowly got up and stumbled into the next room, throwing on his dressing gown. The clock on the mantlepiece informed him that it was no-bloody-time to be awakened by a frantic werewolf. He had really been looking forward to a full night of sleep for once, which was a rare occurrence given the many demands on his time.

"Severus!" There was relief in the voice of Remus Lupin when the potions master finally answered his floo.

"You know what hour it is, Remus?"

"Yes, but we need you at Grimmauld Place. Right now!" The wolf sounded truly anxious.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right. Let me get dressed at least. I'll be with you in a few minutes," he sighed in resignation, knowing it was going to be another short night. And he went to find his clothing, trying to come awake again, after too little sleep to do any good for his fraying temper.

oOooOoOoOo

A short while later Severus Snape stepped gracefully out of the floo, dusting himself off from the sooty fireplace. He was looking around the dark, cheerless room with an automatic sneer on his face, when the door creaked open to admit a clearly disturbed werewolf.

"Thank you for coming, Severus."

"So what is it, Remus, that could absolutely not wait until the morning and made you get me at such an unholy hour?"

Lupin merely looked at him for a long moment, his features going carefully blank and unreadable, and then beckoned him to follow. "There is something you need to look at in the library."

Severus shot him a suspicious glare, but followed the other wizard across the hallway into the darkness shrouded room which as always smelled of musty old books and mildew. A few candles lit up the end where the Black family tapestry hung on the wall. Lupin went over to it and stopped in front of the old fabric, partly hiding it from view.

"All right, now will you finally tell me what you dragged me here for?" Severus asked tiredly. "It is the middle of the night for Merlin's sake!"

"Well ..." Lupin seemed at a loss for words. "Harry woke me up earlier," he said abruptly, giving Severus an apologetic look.

He snorted. Of course it was due to the Boy-who-lived-to-give-him-sleepless-nights that he was here.

"It's his birthday today," Remus explained hurriedly. "And it seems the boy always stays up to wait for the day to start ... and he .. discovered," now the werewolf ran his hands through his hair in agitation and swallowed heavily.

"Something ... upsetting. Very upsetting," Remus stated, looking straight at Severus. "And rather inexplicable. And there are damn few people who could possibly shed some light on this. Most of them are dead. Of the living ... maybe you. Maybe Albus. But more likely you."

"What is it then, that you think I might know?" Severus was tired, and knew that his remaining patience was running out fast.

"Here ..." the wolf grabbed his sleeve and tugged him forward. "You need to look at the tapestry," Remus said and stepped sideways to allow him to finally view the old thing.

Severus' eyes followed the pointing finger. His eyes widened involuntarily.

"What the fuck?"

"Exactly my reaction."

He felt like the air was being constricted out of him.

"This is impossible!"

"No."

"No?"

"It's worse."

"_Worse_?"

"It's true."

And that's when his eyes followed Remus' gaze to the other occupant of the room, who had been sitting overlooked in the shadows, with his head cradled in his hands. And Severus felt as if the foundations of the house itself were being torn out from underneath him. He steadied himself against a chair and collapsed onto it. He stared at the slight figure in front of him. The boy looked absolutely shell-shocked when he finally looked up at his teacher. As well as he might. He looked just like his mother. From the dark eyes to the dark curly hair and the chiselled features.

"This is ...this cannot be ... no ... please tell me this is some joke ... this cannot be true ..." Without doubt hundreds of students would have given a lot to hear their strict potions master reduced to this stammering mess.

"Worth dragging you here for then?" Remus' voice was dripping with unusual sarcasm.

"But ..." he struggled for air. "How? And why only now?"

"Apparently someone ... I would guess Lily ... put a lot of really strong charms on him as a baby. She was a genius at charms work, after all. But permanent appearance charms like that need _consent_. Which can be given for an infant or a child, but once he reached the age of consent …. well they have collapsed, as you can see. And that also caused the information to appear on the tapestry, it seems."

Their eyes returned to the large piece of fabric on the wall.

"This is a very old piece of magic," Remus continued, as he trailed his fingers over it again. "But it looks like it can be blocked from displaying information. You may note that it still does not say who the boy's father is ... only it cannot have been Lestrange himself or he would not be a Black by name."

"Which means the boy is likely bastard born," Severus pointed out, his mind already whirling with possibilities. He heard a chocked sound behind him.

"Regardless of that, thanks to his mother being the eldest sister, he still has seniority on the distaff side of the Black family. And the tapestry says that he _is _the heir of the House." The fingers stroked softly over the House seal curled around the name.

They all stared at the embroidery on the tapestry. The shadows around them coiled deeply, with the flickering candles only dispelling enough of the gloom to make the gold threads glitter. Corvus Black. Son of Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. Formerly known as Harry James Potter.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "I cannot help hoping that this is some nightmare I am about to wake up from soon."

Surely the world could not turn upside down in a few minutes.

"Nightmare is right," he heard the boy mutter behind them. "And I can't seem to wake up either."

oOooOoOoOoOo

"However," the werewolf spoke up again, softly, after the silence had started to stretch uncomfortably. "Back to the reason I called you here, Severus. You see … there are only two people I can think of, who might conceivably have taken him from Bellatrix and brought him to the Potters. One ... Sirius. She might have turned to her cousin for help ... "

"Unlikely but possible, yes," Snape agreed, shifting restlessly.

"He would have helped her though, if only to protect a child of his family. But you are right, that she would not likely have involved the cousin she hated ... unless she was really desperate and had no other recourse. And we cannot ask him anymore," Remus concluded, looking pained.

"But the other possibility ... is you. You were a fellow Death Eater, and you _were_ a friend of Lily's."

Severus Snape shook his head. "I cannot remember anything of that kind. But it is ... possible, I must admit. I do know that Bellatrix was gone for a few months around that time ... from spring to late summer, if I remember it right. The Dark Lord himself had sent her to the continent to recruit allies I think. And if she knew she was with child ... she might have tricked her master to get him to do it ... she was cunning enough and it was long before she was reduced to insanity."

"There was certainly no love lost between her and her husband. It was an arranged marriage and she was secure enough in her position with the Dark Lord that she could play around with impunity. Her master even encouraged it. She was ... very beautiful then. And utterly alluring. There were several of the Death Eaters who were seduced to the Dark Lord's side because of her, and she didn't care about their age either." Snape hunched his shoulders and looked uncomfortable.

"It could easily have happened during one of the Dark Lord's revels ... there was usually plenty of alcohol and … recreational potions involved ... enough that she might have forgotten about safety charms. She was wild and often indulged herself. Though why that whore would have chosen to bear a child that was not her husband's ..."

"Severus! Harry doesn't need to know all that of his ... his mother for ... " Remus finally could not contain his mortification anymore, but he was immediately interrupted again.

"And you think being coddled will help him?" Severus Snape spat, locking incensed.

"Best he knows fully what she is like, so that he does not get any false idea that there is anything to be salvaged about her. She was never a sweet child. She grew up in an unpleasant, dark family, and in her turn embraced the Darkness willingly. There are very good reasons she is the Dark Lord's favourite! She is a sadistic, depraved murderess, and probably utterly insane by now, and yes, she is a whore. She would even warm the Dark Lord's bed in a heartbeat if he wanted her to! Maybe she has in the past. And she is everything Lily was not!"

Snape's voice had gotten increasingly venomous during his tirade, but it broke at the last words. He sharply turned his face towards the darkness and visibly tried to calm himself.

Remus instead looked at the boy, who had gone pasty white and was shivering badly, clutching his hands together hard. "Oh Cub, I know this is terrible for you. I certainly would not want her for a mother either, knowing all she has done."

When this got no reaction at all, he went over and embraced the trembling teenager, enfolding him firmly in a hug. "But I will always be there for you, you know that? It does not matter to me who your parents were."

Harry refused to meet the werewolf's eyes when Remus tilted his chin up.

"Please believe me. You are still you. It doesn't matter if Lily and James were not your parents. That doesn't change who _you_ are. I have gotten to know you as a wonderful young person, who is resourceful, and determined, and loyal and fierce and who will stand up for what he believes in. That has not changed in the slightest. Believe me. You are still you!" The werewolf took Harry by the shoulders and shook him lightly.

"It does not matter who your parents were. It. Does. Not. Matter!"

The boy sighed but finally looked back at Remus.

"Maybe. I have to try and believe it, I guess," Harry said softly, sounding hopeless.

"Is there any way to find out who my father was, though? It's bad enough to know about ... her," he continued after a moment, his voice breaking. "But I'd rather not be surprised by _that_ discovery under even worse circumstances."

Remus looked back at the potions master, who left his chair and moved closer with a swish of dark robes. Snape's expression was unexpectedly unguarded, if quite unhappy, as he stared at them, and Harry felt grateful that for once his teacher refrained from making sarcastic comments.

"Think, Severus. Is there really nothing else you remember?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose again and closed his eyes for a moment in concentration.

"No. But there are some things about all of this, which now do not quite add up anymore. And _that_ is suspicious. It almost screams of obliviated memories. You will never notice they are gone, until you go looking for something and find ... unsatisfactory blanks. Loose threads. Things that do not quite fit together. Like why Lily's baby was so important to me that I swore a wizard's oath for his sake. Why I would go to Dumbledore to change sides because of him," Snape admitted as he crouched down next to the other two. He was looking intently at Harry, as if searching for something in his features.

Remus looked thunderstruck. "That was because of _Harry_?"

Snape's admission sounded very reluctant. "Yes. That, and I was starting to come to my senses anyway and wanted out of that insanity. But the final straw … well … I always thought it was because of Lily herself but ... no. It was definitely because of the child. I am somehow quite sure of that. But now we know that he was not Lily's child at all. And why should _Bellatrix_'s child be a reason for me to want to switch sides?"

Both of them stared at Harry. Remus' look turned thoughtful after a moment.

"Is there any chance that _you_ are the father then?" Harry's eyes widened at that and went to Snape's face, who continued to inspect the teenager with a burning intensity.

"Given his looks and coloration? It dare say its entirely possible. I also attended all those revels that possibly might have produced him, and yes, in those days I was not immune to Bellatrix's dubious charms, either," Snape admitted, grimacing in obvious self loathing. "And I seriously doubt I would have taken Bellatrix's son by anyone else to Lily of all people ... but mine? Yes, I can see myself doing that. Also if it _was_ me," the usually so smooth voice trembled. "I could then have given the necessary consent for those damn charms."

"And would you have given up all knowledge of this to protect him?" Remus questioned gently.

"To protect him and spare myself the anguish of seeing him grow up away from me ... as _James_' son no less? Or else see him die at the Dark Lord's hands? Yes to that again." Snape's voice sounded tormented.

Severus Snape and Harry Potter continued to stare at each other, eyes full of that terrible surmise. Neither seemed able to speak further. Once again it was Remus who finally broke the uncomfortable cloying silence filling the room.

"I think you both need to know if it is the true or not," he stated. Both pairs of troubled eyes were dragged to him, seeming oddly reluctant to break their contact.

"I think that given everything, you, Severus, are the one that would matter the most to Harry, no?" The boy flicked a sideways look at Snape before he nodded almost unwillingly.

"After all, it's not as if he knows any of the other Death Eaters personally, and you two certainly have had a ... deplorable history together," Remus continued, his voice suddenly hard. "Which you really should bury no matter the outcome of this."

Two dark gazes met again, and neither seemed willing to look away for long moments. It was Snape who finally tore his eyes away and stood up again.

"I dare say we should. Not even I am so obstinate and bull headed to keep seeing James Potter in him now and if I was wrong about that ... who knows what else I was wrong about," he admitted quietly. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he returned his gaze to the silent teenager who was staring up at him with disbelief written on his face.

"As to our other suspicion ... _that_, at least, we can easily either prove or lay to rest. But if his father was someone else, we may never learn. It's not as if we can blood test all the Dark Lord's followers ... provided that the one in question is even still amongst the living." Harry looked sick at that thought.

"But I am available, and the test is easy enough to do. I will go fetch what we need. And I best bring Albus back with me. Merlin knows what _he_ will make of this," he added over his shoulder as he swept towards the fireplace in the other room.

oOooOoOoOo

Severus Snape's arrival in his private quarters was less than graceful for once. He almost stumbled when he emerged from the floo, catching himself against the nearest wall and staring at his shaking hands before closing his eyes. He still felt shocked to the core. This was a nightmare. This was his own sordid past coming to haunt him. Because he _had_ been a guest in Bella's bed around the time the boy must have been conceived. Had received her amorous attentions more than once. Had quite willingly drowned his sorrow at the loss of Lily in the dark witches arms.

And he could not decide if he wanted it to be true or not. For the boy's sake it would actually be the best outcome if he was, indeed, the father. His face twisted into a bitter smile. Indeed far better him, than most of the possible alternatives. It would not be easy after those last years wasted on mistaken hatred, but they could still reconcile. Probably. They could reach some kind of understanding. He had never treated the boy well. But he had also always protected him. So maybe there was still a basis for trust. Eventually. Hopefully. He took a deep breath.

But for his own sake ... he felt terribly torn. He realised that part of him wanted nothing to do with this, desired simply to push it all away for someone else to deal with. But the other part, by far the larger it seemed, somehow badly wanted the boy to be his. Because without the hatred for James Potter, without those damned looks of the other man getting in the way, all the past vitriol and resentment he had felt towards the boy appeared utterly pointless. And so very stupid.

Because now that his eyes were no longer clouded by his own expectations, he found himself wanting to discover what was really there. To maybe even find himself in the boy. Who had suddenly turned into an entirely unknown quantity. And who was perhaps a strange, twisted gift out of nowhere. But who was most of all, right now, just a young man who needed to find out who his father was. Even if that father turned out to be one Severus Snape, bitter and twisted spy and former follower of the boy's worst enemy.


	2. Paternitas

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just enjoy messing around with them.

oOooOoOoOo

"Albus." This was no time for polite greeting rituals. Or offers of inane sweets.

"We have a problem. A serious problem," he said, knowing that his voice sounded cold. Cold to hide the turmoil underneath. Of course the ice was cracking, but right now he needed to stay calm. Calm and controlled. There would be time to break down later. Once he knew if it was true. Or not. He still could not decide which would be worse.

"Oh dear," the old man said complacently. Severus had to fight a strong desire to strangle him. "Something is up with Harry, I suppose?"

"Now what makes you say that, Albus?" He was instantly suspicious. Did the old man know something they did not? It would certainly not be the first time his employer had kept secrets from everybody.

"It _is_ the boy's birthday today. It is therefore not unlikely that any problem would involve him," the old wizard pointed out calmly. Not an unreasonable supposition unfortunately. It wasn't as if he himself was innocent of having jumped to conclusions regarding the bane of his existence. The bane of his existence, who might now turn out to exist because of Severus himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. All this was starting to give him a headache.

"Yes, it involves …. Mr. Potter. And I am sorry to have to say," he added disdainfully, and looked around the office with all its portraits. "That even here is not entirely secure enough." Albus' gaze sharpened at this declaration.

"And thus we need you over at Grimmauld Place," Severus concluded and swept his hand towards the fireplace. "To help sort this out. Preferably before this night is over."

He looked pointedly at the old wizard, willingly meeting his eyes for once, to demonstrate just how urgent and serious the matter was.

"Of course I will come, but is the boy all right?"

"That depends on your definition of 'all right', I suppose," Severus' drawl was sarcastic as he headed for the fireplace and grasped a pinch of floo powder. '"But in body, at least, he is unharmed. I can make no guarantees for his state of mind, though."

Or mine, before this night is over, he added silently as the floo tore him away.

oOooOoOoOo

When Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace a little while later, he followed the trail of lightened candles downwards to find his potions master setting up a cauldron and an assortment of ingredients on the kitchen table. The younger wizard did not even look up from his work at his entry.

"What are you doing, Severus?" Albus appeared puzzled.

"Surely brewing a potion is nothing unusual for me, Albus?" Severus replied sarcastically, as he started to swiftly prepare and add ingredients with the ease of long practise. At least the potion itself would be easy to deal with. Quite unlike the possible consequences of what it might reveal.

"Now? And here? After you called me over so urgently?" The old wizard looked around the dismal, cheerless kitchen. Not all the scrubbing in the world ever seemed to rid the place of the feeling of ancient grime.

"This potion is required quite urgently," Severus said with fake calm and looked for a moment pointedly at the door behind Dumbledore. He hoped the old man would take the hint. He continued to stir the liquid in precise, unhurried patterns, outwardly unperturbed. Inside he rather felt like his own potion, which was by now starting to simmer away nicely.

"I believe you are expected in the library, Albus," he added sharply, when the headmaster made no move to leave him alone.

"Does the potion have anything to do with the boy?" Albus persisted doggedly, clearly still trying to work out what exactly Severus was brewing.

"Yes, Albus," Severus admitted with a glare at the older man, reaching into the bag he had brought from Hogwarts and setting a gleaming silver knife on the table. He watched Albus' eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Please go to the library, Albus. And send Mister … Potter to me, once you are done with him."

He closed his eyes and willed the old man to leave. He finally heard steps and the closing of the door. He released the breath he had been holding. Resumed his stirring. And felt his insides tie themselves in knots. Long minutes of restless waiting passed before the door eventually opened again. The boy slipped inside, still looking pale faced and disturbed. Severus regarded him steadily as Harry settled on a chair across from his teacher, giving the brewing potion an uneasy look.

"How did he take it?" Severus finally asked, when the boy seemed unwilling to speak first.

"I'm not sure," the boy admitted quietly, his voice subdued. "I think he was almost expecting something of this kind. Just not … _Bellatrix_. _That_ seemed to shake him badly." By the look on the boy's face he clearly sympathised with the headmaster. He fell silent again, still staring at the potion.

Severus returned his own attention to the cauldron as well. It was finished. They could not put it off any longer. Severus took a deep breath and released it again, suddenly unsure of what to say. Harry's eyes remained fixed on the potion simmering gently between them. Severus cleared his throat. The boy looked up at that and their eyes met across the cauldron, darkness meeting equal darkness. Clearly they were both uncomfortable with the situation.

"What now?" the boy asked hesitantly.

"Now we each add a drop of blood to the potion. If we are not related at all, it will go dark and cloudy. If you are, indeed, my son, it will turn clear. If we are related, but to some lesser degree, it would be cloudy but not dark ... the closer the lighter," Severus finished his explanation. The boy silently nodded his understanding.

He took up the knife. Nicked his finger, letting a drop fall into the roiling depths of the potion. Handed the knife across to the youth. Who turned it over once, with trembling fingers. And looked up at him, searchingly. Then the dark eyes, so different from what they had been, went to the knife again. The boy pierced his thumb.

Severus felt almost mesmerised as he watched the drop fall into the fluid. Both had their eyes fixed on the cauldron. Which boiled up once, and delivered its verdict. Guilty as charged. And as clear as both their eyes were not.

oOooOoOoOo

"So," Harry began, folding his hands together carefully. They were trembling. Again. He felt breathless. He had a father. A _living_ father. Who hated him. Or at least detested him. His eyes were stinging. He raised them again, to meet his father's burning gaze. It didn't _feel_ like hate though. His brow wrinkled in confusion.

"You _have_ been thinking about this," he said, the accusation heavy in his voice.

The man who was his father nodded in agreement. "Only every moment since I became aware of the possibility," Severus Snape admitted. "And I cannot say that I am pleased by this development."

Why did this declaration actually have to feel strangely painful? Why should it hurt to be rejected by someone you didn't like in the first place? He shivered, hunching his shoulders slightly. Lowered his eyes to hide the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes.

"I am not pleased at the horrible complication this makes in my life. I am already juggling too many balls, trying to please too many masters. Can you understand that?" Snape continued, sounding oddly hesitant. "But neither am I … entirely displeased."

Harry blinked in confusion. What was the confounding man trying to say? They were suddenly back to their staring match it seemed, both trying to read something in the other's eyes. Was there a feeling of shared desperation for … acknowledgement, maybe? A sign that the other …. actually wanted this?

"You did!" he suddenly accused. He could not say how he knew this, but it felt undeniably true to him. "You did want it to be true."

The other's dark eyes closed. It felt like an admittance of defeat.

"Yes. Part of me … does. Part of me .. does not."

"I can understand the parts that don't. The parts that do …." Snape opened his eyes again, his voice trailing off. It held none of its usual silky smoothness at the moment. "They are …." the wizard touched his heart with both hands, met his son's dark gaze squarely again. "They are … unexpected. Inexplicable. Painful even. And ..." he drew a shaky breath. "For all that I strongly disliked you before … that feeling seems to have disappeared. Only it seems to have left the intensity of the emotion behind." Harry would never have thought to see the other man look so lost. Or so bewildered.

Which was really how he felt himself. His own feelings seemed to be all over the place. Surely he could not possibly be wanting to be acknowledged by the dark wizard who had made his life so unpleasant? Who had done nothing but insult and ridicule him. And yet even the thought that he would be rejected now, had caused a quite painful reaction in him. Had even brought involuntary tears to his eyes. Maybe he should blame it on the fact that his life had just been turned totally upside down? After all, in a world where nothing was the right way up, wanting to be accepted by _Snape,_ of all people, could somehow make sense?

He finally found his own voice again. "I think I know what you mean. And I don't think that I hate you anymore either."

"Which leaves us … where?" Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have expected Snape to sound … insecure. But something had changed with that mutual admission of changed feelings. Because now they were suddenly in dangerously new, uncharted territory. And it would be so very easy to founder there, when everything was so new and so painfully raw.

What _did_ they feel for each other now? What could they possibly feel after those years of mutual animosity? Love? The very idea was laughable. What else could they possibly want … ah. That was it, wasn't it? _Want_. Want itself. Wanting to not be alone. Wanting someone else to be there. Wanting to be wanted. He knew that desire all too well, had lived with it most of his life. And he could see it reflected in the dark eyes burning into him. But it was much too soon to speak of it. First they needed to clean up some of the past. Their past. He shivered.

"Damned if I know. I don't know what to think about anything anymore," he said, smiling bitterly. The atmosphere in the room felt oppressive.

"You did give me hell the last five years, though. And most of it because of something that wasn't my fault ... and was never even true it seems. So yeah … what are you going to do now? You sure can't keep accusing me of being 'just like my father'," Harry added almost spitefully.

He knew he was probably sounding too harsh, but the way he had been treated had left its wounds in him. The world may have turned upside down, but that had not drained all of his old anger and bitterness. And he wasn't just going to let it all go without at least an apology.

"It would indeed be very hypocritical of me to continue seeing _James Potter_ in you," his … father admitted, still sounding unsettled. "Though now that I actually think about it, I fear that I actually _do_ see your father in you," Snape continued with an edge of self mockery to his voice. Harry raised an eyebrow at that. But the older wizard nodded decisively.

"No, you certainly do have my temper. And my damn stubbornness. And my unwillingness to quit in the face of a challenge," the man sighed. "I'm afraid I may not have passed my best qualities to you."

"But mostly I realise that … I do not know you at all," Snape continued slowly. "Thanks to only seeing what I expected to see, I fear that I have absolutely no idea what is really there. And I know that I need to learn who you truly are ... especially now. I can only hope that you will let me."

His robes rustled as he moved around the table and crouched down in front of Harry, looking at him with a strange intensity that was making Harry's insides churn.

"For what it is worth … I am sorry. Not only because I was wrong about you, but also because I was out of line in the first place. I should never have tried to take out James' sins on who I thought was his son. I am sorry for assuming the worst of you. I'm sorry for not believing you, when you tried to tell me otherwise. And I'm more than sorry for all those wasted years. I know that 'sorry', does not really fix anything … but do you think we could try and find a new start?"

Harry could see nothing but sincerity in his … father's face. Silence fell once again upon the room. His father. He could wish it had been someone else. But then again, someone else could have been ever so much worse, too. And the man had actually apologised. Said he was sorry. Which was surely worth something. But was it enough? Could it ever be enough? But even if it wasn't, could he really afford to refuse this request? After all he had his own share of guilty feelings, and things to apologise for.

He realised he had been staring silently at Snape for too long when the insecurity and the intensity in the other's eyes started to turn to blankness and it looked like he was going to get up again.

"Don't," he said helplessly. "I just don't know what to say. Or think. Or … I … just don't know. Anything," he finished lamely, trying desperately to convey the message with his eyes instead. Something must have gotten across, because Snape was still there. Waiting. His expression questioning. Harry closed his eyes and tried to find some composure. Somewhere. So he could maybe make some sense. He swallowed convulsively to try and dislodge the tension that had gotten stuck in his throat.

"I … I …." he began, realising that he must be sounding like an idiot. But the words did not want to come. He forced them out anyway.

"I'm sorry, too," he managed, his voice tight with emotion. And found that, once that sentence was out of the way, that it became much easier.

"I should have tried harder. To listen to you. And to not always loose my temper. I mean, I can ignore insults from other people easily enough, but you just always got to me. I know you tried to keep me safe, and I must have been a nightmare in that regard. Even if it was often not my fault. And you would just never listen to me."

Harry knew that the harshness and the hurt was back in his voice. He had never realised himself just how badly his teacher had been affecting him. In a way it made a weird kind of sense now, even though he could not have known. Surely not. But perhaps he had always felt that there was something connecting them, and to have it constantly denied … but maybe that could change now. If he allowed it to.

"But I … would like to try anyway … I think," he concluded despondently. He realised it was hardly the most rousing of sentiments, even as he said it.

He wondered if it would be enough. But his throat had closed up again. He couldn't stop the shivering any longer and hugged himself convulsively. Tears were stinging in his eyes again. But after a moment he felt arms go around him and helplessly buried his face in dark fabric smelling of dry herbs. Apparently it _had_ been enough. The whole world had spun on its axis and nothing was how it had been. Especially if it involved getting a hug from Snape. His father.

oOooOoOoOo

It was a while later that Severus Snape swept into the library, the draught from his abrupt entrance setting the candles dancing. The two men waiting for him fell silent at his approach, both watching him intently. He stopped in front of them and gave them a brief glower before turning away sharply and staring resolutely at dark shelves.

"Severus?" the old man sounded concerned.

"Yes?" he asked the darkness.

"Do we really have to drag it out of you? Or will you please tell us? What did you find?" Albus asked gently. He did not want that. Not the gentleness. Not when he still felt so open and emotional. Him. Emotional. He snorted. And capitulated to the inevitable with a sigh.

"Yes. I am. He is. We are. Father and son. For what it's worth," he snapped in a fit of almost childish irritation. He did not want this conversation. Not now. Not when he was still trying to work out what it meant. What it would mean. He glowered at the darkness in front of him. He imagined the look the other two would be exchanging behind his back. Not only was the Boy-who-lived the son of Bellatrix Lestrange, but he had Severus Snape for an equally unlikely and undesirable father. Still, their thoughts probably would be echoing his own: far better him than the possible alternatives.

"Severus, please. Don't be like that," this time it was the damn wolf pleading with him. But what did they know? How could they understand what it felt like to find out that your most detested student was actually your own bloody _son_! What did they expect of him? It was times like these that they ought to remember he was not a clockwork spy, but a human being with emotions. Emotions that were currently more than confusing and out of control. Emotions that he did not particularly want to share with them either.

He was not prepared for how undone he felt when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Severus, please look at me," Albus remonstrated with him, his voice still full of that gentle concern that too often led to Severus' downfall. But he did not want to give in. Even if it was childish temper. For once he wanted to indulge it. Because here and now he could afford to. He was safe with those two, for all it galled him to admit it. He sighed and finally allowed himself to relax into the touch.

"I know," he muttered. "I know I am being stupid. But _this_? Of all things? How do I deal with this?"

"Like you always do, dear boy. One step at a time. And we will help."

"Will you now?" he murmured, but he knew that the question was a rhetoric one. Of course his mentor would. It would hardly be left up to him alone to deal with the boy. And Remus would help, too, if only out of concern for his precious cub. Still ...

"Remus, why don't you go see where Harry has gotten to?" Albus asked calmly, exerting slight pressure on Severus' shoulder. It was a warning. Do not protest. We need to talk.

"Of course, Albus," Remus agreed amiably and immediately got up and made for the door. Severus frowned after him. All this willing cooperation on the werewolf's part was … slightly unnerving. Though he had to admit that Remus had been trying to extend him a hand in friendship for a while now. And he had always been the most tolerable of the unholy set of Marauders. Still, the man ought to be more upset to discover that his best friend's son was not actually his son at all. Then again, he was hardly the only one wearing a mask, and so Lupin's gentle amiability likely was a mask, too.

However, he was now alone with the old man. Time to ask a question of his own. He finally turned around to face Albus Dumbledore, who was still looking at him with concern in his eyes. But the headmaster wore a mask, too. He shock off the other's hand, met his eyes firmly.

"Did you know any of this, Albus?" Severus' question was a challenge. Because if anyone could have known, it would be the interfering and meddling old chess-master.

"No. Honestly, Severus. I have kept a lot of things from you over the years," Albus admitted, "but I would never have hidden your son from you. Never. As for who his mother is," the old man grimaced at the thought. "I am still trying to get my own mind around that one. I admit that I sometimes had my suspicions … that maybe … that there was something not right with him being the Potter's son."

"Everyone always saw his 'parents' in him", he went on to explain immediately. "But honestly I never did. I _did_ blame it on his upbringing, but there was always a lot in him that just did not match with Lily and James. I fear that most of the similarities we all saw over the years were from our own expectations."

Severus winced and looked away. "I know. I never wanted to see the boy. I was much to busy hating his father," he closed his eyes as the incongruity of that statement struck him anew. "How fittingly ironic that I therefore ended up hating myself."

"You have done too much of that over the years, dear Severus," Albus hand came to rest on the younger wizard's shoulder again. "Stop blaming yourself. And do not close your mind to the possibilities now. The boy needs you."

"He needs a father who loves him. I cannot be that. And I feel guilty just looking at him," Severus said harshly, defeat evident in his voice. His son. His son. Not Potter's. It changed nothing. It changed everything.

"No, Severus. He needs a _parent_ badly right now. But not necessarily to love him," he threw up a hand to forestall Severus' protest. "Or even to be particularly caring of him. Well it certainly would not hurt," he added with a sigh. "But I do not think anyone is expecting miracles here, least of all the boy. What he needs is simple someone who is _there_ for him, and can give him some grounding. To let him know that there is something stable about his world after all."

"He has now suddenly gained the chance at something he must have thought forever lost … a parent. And to loose that straight away again, in case you reject him ... what do you think _that_ would do to him? And you are the one he will look to. Bellatrix was a lost cause from the moment he discovered her as a mother, and that leaves you. You, dear Severus."

"_You_ have to be his anchor now. You have to give him stable ground. And I know you can do that. It is not really about love or caring. It is about being there for him. About _wanting_ him. And I know that you can give him that. Because you already do."

Albus' eyes pierced him. He drew a shaking breath. Of course he did. Want the boy. Without explanation, beyond reason. He wanted the boy. He was a precious gift out of nowhere, and nothing or nobody was going to take him away. Not if he could help it. He shuddered inwardly at the realisation how deep the feeling of protectiveness he felt towards the boy - _his_ boy – really ran. He looked at Albus' knowing smile in defeat. Guilty as charged.

"Do what you can. You may not love him … but don't deny that you want him. And feeling wanted is, right now, exactly what he needs the most."

What a disconcerting thought, that out of all this disaster, that he should be the one good thing for the boy. And for all that he wanted to refute the old wizard's words, he found he could not. Too much of it was the truth. Still, he did not have to admit it either.

"And I think you are mistaken that you will not love him, Severus. You cannot deny that there have always been strong _emotions_ between the two of you. You two have always gotten under each other's skin. Love can turn to hate, you know that. And I rather suspect that hate can also turn to love. Especially when you realise, that there was never a reason to hate in the first place. And when you let go of past hurt and shame and guilt."

"One cannot undo the past."

"No. But one can make amends. One can build a different future. And I think you need something from him as well."

He simply did not know what to say to that. And he had hugged the boy. It had felt … surprisingly right. Which had really scared him badly.

"Maybe … redemption? A second chance? And family is a strange thing. It should not matter as much as it does. But there are connections … some of them formed from growing up together of course, but others simply because of a shared inheritance. You obviously have missed out on many of those, but there is still a potential that you should not disregard."

"And I know that Harry often expressed a certain feeling of … distance from his parents. That he did not know them. Did not really feel that he was like them. That was another thing that sometimes made me wonder ... " Albus added contemplatively. And smiled fondly at Severus.

"Albus ..." But it was a faint protest. Doomed to failure.

"You know, for all your feud and your mutual dislike, there was something between the two of you right from the start. You just could not leave him alone, and I do not believe that was just from your hatred of James as his father. And he always reacted very strongly to your behaviour, too. I think that in some ways he was actually rather desperate for your approval."

"My approval?" Severus said disbelievingly. "You really think that?"

"Hmm I dare say so, yes. Anyway … just promise me that you will try, Severus. That is all I can really ask of you," Albus said gently, putting his hand on Severus' shoulder again.

He sighed. "It's the very least I owe him. I just do not know if I can actually succeed."

"You will. Do not sell yourself short, dear boy."

Severus just shot him a dirty look and moved away to stare morosely out of the window. Waiting for his son to join them. His son. How the fates must be laughing at him right now.

oOooOoOoOo

It was all too much.

He felt overwhelmed. Unable to sort out how he really felt about any of this.

There was simply no way to put it into words. His mind refused to put it all together.

He wanted to refuse it all. Deny it. It could not be true. Yet the mirror in front of him showed the damning evidence. He wasn't who he had always thought he was. Had in fact never really been that person. Who he had been, was a lie. And who he was now … was an unknown. Someone without a past to define him. And yet at the same time quite constricted by the circumstances of his parentage.

As for those parents ...

His mind shied away from even thinking about his mother.

He simply couldn't reconcile his memory of Bellatrix Lestrange with any image of motherhood. Much less _his_ mother. Mum. He felt like laughing hysterically. He splashed some water over his face instead. Watched the drops of water slide down his checks. Mother. _Bellatrix_. It just didn't add up. Unless the result of the equation was insanity.

As for his father …

Now that was difficult in an entirely different way.

Because of all the bad blood that had been between them. Because of the many insults, the hurt that had come to him from the man, because of a father who now wasn't even his father. But despite all that, despite the pain and anger and plethora of other bad feelings and memories that stood between them …

There was a 'but'.

A 'but' that was giving him an odd hope.

Because there was the potential for things to become different. Things had been bad between them, yes, but they didn't need to stay that way. If both of them managed to look beyond the past. And he had seen the signs in the eyes of the other man. Both the conflict … and the want ...

The want, the strange draw that he felt himself. The want not to be alone. The want to belong. The want of … having a family. It was unsettlingly intense. And most disconcerting. But … and it was a big 'but', promising at the same time. It promised a future. One where he could maybe _belong_.

And didn't have to feel so alone.

But …

What he needed to do now was go back to the library and meet with the others.

And see about sorting out some kind of future. For Harry Potter. Or for Corvus Black. The two of them were almost mutually exclusive. Only one of them could really have a future. The other was going to be forgotten. Ignored. Un-lived. Maybe one day it would come out how Harry Potter should really have been Corvus Black. Or how Corvus Black had once been Harry Potter. But which? It wasn't: 'to be or not to be'. It was: 'to be one or the other'. And the other then would not be.

Who would he be tomorrow?

And would he really have any say in the matter?

Or would it all be decided for him, as his life had been so far. He shivered. And tried not to think on how well _that_ had worked out so far, with people thinking they knew what was best for him. What if they decided it was better for him to forget all about Corvus Black? Condemning him to stay Harry Potter. He scowled at his reflection. Was that really how he felt about himself? Condemned to be Harry Potter? Did he actually want to be Corvus instead? Who came with such an … interesting package. But no past. It was definitely a thought worth considering.

Well, he'd have to see if they would actually regard his opinion. He thought they might … but …

Time to face the music. And see what the melody was going to be.


	3. Decisions

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. But oh the fun one can have with them ….

oOoOoOoOo

He had still been staring at his reflection with unseeing eyes, lost in thoughts, when the door opened and Remus came in, looking concerned. Remus, who offered hugs and soft words of reassurance. Which was what he wanted … and then again not. Snape had been surprisingly right about that … coddling didn't really help in dealing with all this. Then again, he didn't know what would help. Maybe only time could. And probably he needed to talk some more with his … father. Snape. His father.

But he meekly followed Remus back to the library, no matter how reluctant he was to face the three of them together. It felt a bit like he was going to his judgement. Like he was about to be judged for having Bellatrix as a mother, and was going to be found wanting. No matter that Remus said it didn't matter, Snape actually seemed to have accepted him, and Dumbledore … well his gentle smile didn't really give anything away. But surely he must be disappointed with Harry now? Though once again, it wasn't really his fault, was it? Parents was not something one could pick, after all.

When they entered the library Remus had gone to join the headmaster, and the two of them were now conferring quietly, seated around a small round table where a couple more empty chairs were waiting. Harry had found himself drawn back to the damned tapestry, and was now listlessly examining it again. Nothing had changed there. It still proclaimed his new-found parentage in glittering gold embroidery. He could have sworn that he felt the eyes of … Snape on his back, watching Harry as he stared at his new name. His … new … name. Or … who he really was. Maybe. It still felt surreal.

He became slowly aware that the others had fallen silent. He turned around to find them all watching him. Snape had joined the other two at the table and he hadn't even heard the man move. He lowered his eyes. Started to card back his hair in a nervous gesture. And felt his breath hitch as his hand encountered the curls. The damnable curls. He let his hand fall helplessly. Finally raised his eyes again to look back at the three. Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile and eyed the last empty chair suggestively. Harry shrugged and went to sit down with them.

"So," he said, and he was sure his voice was trembling. "Tell me, who am I nowadays?"

oOoOoOoOo

"Legally? You are Corvus Black, bastard son of Bellatrix Lestrange, as you were not born of her husband, and Severus Snape. Your father could claim you, which would make you a Snape. But the Potters … I fear that they didn't officially adopt you, see. They simply pretended you were their child, who must have died," Albus Dumbledore explained, frowning unhappily. "I suspect that you actually have no legal claim to the Potter lineage. I am pretty sure there is no paperwork. Their child died, and you were taken in its place ... secretly."

"So we need to keep this all secret? Put the charms back on me somehow? Forget anything happened?"

Harry felt totally conflicted. Much as he was still horrified at the realisation who his parents really were, he couldn't help feeling strongly about the fact that he did, in fact, have parents who were alive. Never mind that one was out for his blood, and bloody insane, and the other had detested him until now. Only Severus Snape had apparently finally been shocked into realising that he had been very mistaken about Harry, and looked like he actually wanted him to be his son. He swallowed hard.

"Harry … Corvus," Snape was suddenly crouched in front of him again, dark eyes looking into his own intently. "What is it that _you _want?"

"I ... I don't really know. But I am not sure I can still be Harry Potter. Unless you obliviate me too," he laughed bitterly. "Being Harry Potter was hard enough without knowing all this on top of it." He waved his hand vaguely.

"But it doesn't matter what I want, I can't be Corvus Black either, can I? Bellatrix would hand me over to Voldemort in a second."

"Or he would demand that I bring you to him," his father admitted unhappily. "and if I refused ..."

The two of them stared at each other. Albus appeared deep in thought, and Remus' fingers were restlessly plucking at his robes as he stared off into the darkness. Silence lay heavily on the room as they all contemplated the future.

"Actually," Albus finally spoke up again. "It would be possible. And it could work out rather well ... provided no one knows that Corvus Black was ever Harry Potter. And only the four of us here have that knowledge."

Snape stared up at him in dawning realisation. "You mean for Harry Potter to disappear ... and Corvus Black, mystery son of Bellatrix and some unknown father, to show up instead?" he speculated, looking doubtful. "Wouldn't people realise there was something fishy with the timing though?"

"Yes, that is a concern, but I am sure we could work something out. And who would expect Harry Potter to be the son of Bellatrix Lestrange? We could easily claim that someone ... hmm maybe Remus ... found him being raised by the people his mother left him with on the continent. After all, she apparently does not remember anything about him."

"Are you insane? What if she really does try to claim me?" Harry exclaimed, before clapping his hand over his mouth in horror. "Ehm sorry sir for calling you insane," he mumbled hastily.

Albus' eyes twinkled. "Don't worry young man, this is after all a rather … preposterous idea. However, she could not claim you, if you were emancipated. Which is the other cornerstone that the success of this would hinge on. But somehow, I am quite sure that the ministry would be positively delighted in helping the heir of House Black with his emancipation, if it means he and his inheritance stay out of Voldemort's clutches."

"I suspect they would be overjoyed to do that. But what if they refuse after all?" Snape asked dryly.

"In that case, we always have the option to have Mr. Black disappear again and have Harry Potter resurface instead," Dumbledore said calmly, stoking his beard.

"True. All right then ... say he gets officially recognised, and emancipated successfully …"

"And then he is enrolled into Hogwarts in order to keep him from his mother," the headmaster finished. "And the danger for Corvus Black should certainly not be any greater than it has been for Harry Potter. Probably rather less so, actually."

"I guess so," Harry admitted. Voldemort had it out for him in any case. It certainly couldn't be worse as Corvus Black. But what did he really want? He felt torn. Did he want to stay Harry Potter, but a Harry Potter who knew that he was a lie? Did he want them to remove the memory, so he could remain Harry Potter who was a lie, but didn't know about it? Or did he want to live as Corvus Black, who was kind of real, but had no past whatsoever? And Corvus did have living parents. Even if they were horrible ones.

He met the dark eyes of one of his horrible parents. Snape had asked him what _he _wanted. And he had apologised for the past, and said he wanted to start their relationship over. And he knew, with unsettlingly deep felt conviction, that the man felt just as torn as himself, and just as full of this strange _want _to claim the other. Even if they had detested each other, and made each other miserable. But that was the past. And for them to have a chance at a different future ...

Dumbledore's voice once more broke the silence, startling Harry out of his musings.

"Harry, I must say that this plan has quite a lot of merit. No-one would ever look for Harry Potter to show up as Bellatrix's son ... I mean the idea really _does_ sound insane," the old man chuckled, and his eyes were twinkling merrily as Harry winced.

"So as long as we make sure that she cannot get to you, you are certainly in no more danger than Harry Potter was all along. I mean Tom will be interested in Corvus, but very likely much less so than in your old self. Of course we could only admit to your mother," Albus added, looking earnestly at Snape.

"At least as long as I want to keep going back to the Dark Lord, certainly."

"Indeed. Which would have to stop as soon as there was any real sign of him getting suspicious of your loyalty, Severus. You are much more important as Harry's ... Corvus' parent than as a spy. He has never had a father before. We will not take this from him if we can help it," Albus declared with an air of finality. Snape nodded his agreement after a moment. Harry felt that he looked rather reluctant to do so.

"The only reason I will permit you to return to Tom for now, is so we can learn how he will react to the emergence of Bellatrix's son ... and his mother's reaction as well, of course."

"That would be advisable, yes. But do also not forget, that if I deserted the Dark Lord too soon after the boy's discovery, he would no doubt suspect me immediately of being his father," Snape said with an admonishing look. "It would not do for him to get that idea, if it is avoidable."

"True. I had not thought of that, Severus."

"Well, someone has to," Snape snarled, giving the headmaster a glare. "It is my life on the line here."

The old wizard sighed. "And that is why we are discussing this," he said in a conciliatory tone. "So hopefully nothing gets overlooked."

Snape shot him another forbidding look before turning his attention back to Harry, who had been looking back and forth between the two of them with uncertainty. Their short interaction had been a reminder to him that the headmaster did not know everything after all, and could not be expected to always make the right decisions either.

"So. What do you want, Harry," Dumbledore asked quietly, looking at Harry squarely. "We have a basic plan that would allow you to live as Corvus, even if there is still plenty of detail to work out." He shot Snape an apologetic look as he said that. "Or you could continue as Harry Potter, with or," he winced slightly. "Without the memory of this night's discoveries."

"But it must be your decision. This is too big to decide over your head, even if every impulse I have wants me to protect you from it and leave you in ignorance of yourself," the old wizard admitted, looking almost ashamed. "But keeping you in the dark has not worked all that well so far, and the truth has a way of coming out at the most unfortunate time."

"There is also the whole 'age of consent' element, Albus," Snape interjected, still sounding disgruntled. "We literally could not make this decision without his agreement."

"Indeed. Therefore it is up to you to decide, Harry. And I could not expect you to trust me again, ever, if I tried to do it for you," Albus stated gravely.

Harry looked back at him helplessly. "I think I need to think about this for a bit, sir," he said. He had not really expected to be the one to make the decision. He still didn't know what he wanted. And even if it was his decision to make, it would also affect other people. Most of all the dark haired wizard still crouched in front of him.

"We can spare you some time, yes. But not overly much, I'm afraid. This is not something we can delay," the headmaster said, smiling gently. "And over-thinking might not help either, dear boy."

Harry looked a the other three, who were all gazing at him expectantly. He would much have preferred to be alone for this, but that might just make him brood unnecessarily. So he closed his eyes instead, and tried to shoo his errant thoughts into a semblance of coherency.

Only he just didn't know what to think anymore. In a way he had just been handed his deepest desire on a silver platter. A family. That's what he had always wanted. What the mirror of Erised had shown him. Only what a family it was. He shuddered. The silver platter was terribly tarnished, stained black and corrupted.

And it could never, would never be polished to shiny brightness. Because there was just no way he would ever be able to reconcile with his … mother. Unless she somehow got a complete character transplant or something. As for the other half … well, that might be polished up a bit. Maybe. Who was he trying to fool here though. In his own way, Snape was just as dark as Bellatrix. Just not … evil, or insane, or quite so sadistic. He didn't think that the man really thrived on pain and misery, despite the way he had always treated Harry. And he seemed to still be able to have positive feelings, and apparently wanted their relationship to change. So there was a maybe for a somewhat brighter future there.

However, there was another thing that had gotten irrevocably tarnished. He swallowed and blinked back tears. Because the Potters were not his parents. Yes, they had taken him in. They had wanted him. Had died for him. In a way, their sacrifice seemed even greater now, because he wasn't actually their child. Which unfortunately also meant that he felt that much more responsible for their deaths. Because he wasn't theirs. Not their flesh and blood. But they had died for him anyway. He swallowed convulsively again. Tarnished. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that they were still his parents, they were not … quite. Not really. And he felt guilty. Because if they hadn't taken him in, they would not have died that night. He sighed unhappily.

He had always thought that his parents had both been Gryffindors. That he had inherited those traits from them. He had been proud to be in their house. But he wasn't. Instead, it was the Slytherin side of him, which he had been trying to keep suppressed, that came from his … real parents. Not that the Potters were unreal or false parents. But they were just not his real parents anymore. If they had lived to raise him, no doubt they would have had quite some influence on him. But they had died, which meant the only influence he could expect from parents would have to be genetic, or magical or whatever it was with wizards. His raising had been at the hands of Aunt Petunia, and that had surely fostered quite different qualities in him.

How would he have turned out, if he had gone along with the Hat's wishes and gone to the snake den? Not tried to fight those Slytherin qualities? And would he have to find out now, because the gold had turned into tarnished silver? How could he possibly go back to face his friends, his teachers, everyone? Knowing that he really wasn't the golden Gryffindor? That he had become tarnished beyond repair? Because Harry Potter was a lie. A lie with every breath he took.

And unless he forgot all of this, he couldn't see how he would possibly still be able to function as Harry Potter. Because he wasn't. He would flinch every time someone called him this name. Because he just wasn't Harry Potter. Not really. Had never been. It shouldn't matter. The Potters had taken him in, fostered him, cared for him, died for him. But he was not their son. He wasn't.

And he needed to make a decision. He wanted ... wanted to know what he wanted. He needed more time to think on this, to brood, to ... ultimately make things worse. Because there was no good decision to make. No matter which way he decided, there would be an element of falseness. The gold had turned into tarnished silver for good. The lie had been planted for him the day he was taken to the Potters, and he could only live with it now. One way or the other. No help there then. He thought back on his past instead.

Life as Harry Potter had been pretty hard. If he could have grown up with ... Lily and James ... he might have grown up happy. He might not have, with a Voldemort that continued undefeated, and would surely have tried to destroy him and his family until he succeeded. As to growing up with Bellatrix as his mother ... he did not even want to think about that. As it was, he had had a pretty bad childhood with the Dursleys, but that had been comparatively mundane. In a strange way, the terrors of a closet under the stairs, full of darkness and spiders, of neglect and being unwanted, had prepared him for the other terrors he now faced. He had outgrown them. He had emerged stronger for it. Unhappy, but not broken.

And then there had been Hogwarts, and the wonders of magic and the wizarding world. Which had immediately taught him that fame was empty, and that he really didn't want to be special. That his name was a hollow shell, which others used to reflect their own hopes and fears upon. One that he now could, if he dared to take this step into the unknown, discard. And from the moment that he had learnt of his real parentage, he had felt Harry Potter to be a lie. Which was telling in itself, that he felt as if Harry Potter was not quite … real.

So now he could leave Harry Bloody Potter behind. If he dared step into the darkness. Which might actually turn out to be pretty easy, as tarnished as he now was. He finally opened his eyes again. His gaze was drawn, unerringly, to his father. Snape's face was carefully neutral, but his dark eyes still held that raw _want _that drew Harry like a magnet. He stared back.

"It is awfully hard to decide this," he confessed unhappily. "None of my options are what I really _could_ want. But … I know that I have not been very happy as Harry Potter. And this would give me a chance to be … someone else. Someone that not everyone has expectations of, if you know what I mean? Or at least different ones." He sighed unhappily, because even as Corvus Black, people would still expect things from him, wouldn't they?

"The only way I could still be Harry Potter is, if I forget all this. If we bury Corvus Black right here and now, and remove my memory of this night," he said, carefully watching his father. _His_ father. Who was trying very hard not to show his emotions, but they lurked in his eyes. And Harry could see that the other was not happy at the thought of Harry choosing the path of forgetting.

"And I … don't really like being Harry Potter enough to want to continue being him, when he is really … a lie," he continued, slowly picking his way through his own jumbled reasoning. "Which means … and this _is_ really hard, because it has to be one or the other … at least for the longest time I guess … and I don't want to loose my friends, but I also don't want to loose this … chance," he said, looking hard into Snape's eyes. He drew a deep breath, preparing himself to step off into the darkness beckoning to him.

"So I guess, yes, I want to give Corvus Black his chance at living."

And he watched his father's eyes light up with an unexpected emotion that he could only call joy. And the darkness coiled around him, protective and safe.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: The idea behind introducing the 'age of consent' is that, while wizarding children attain their majority at seventeen, they reach the 'age of consent' at sixteen. This allows for a period of time where the children learn to make their own decisions, while still being under parental guidance. The parents, on the other hand, learn to let their children go and to consider their wishes in making decisions. And most of all, it makes for an oh so convenient explanation for why the charms failed when Harry turned sixteen, of course.


	4. Details, details

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

"All right. Now that the main question has been decided, let us proceed to sorting out those pesky details," Albus Dumbledore sighed. "Anyone care for a lemon drop, by the way?"

"Oh, keep your sodding lemon drops," Snape snapped at the headmaster, shooting him an irritated scowl. "First of all … how can we prove to everyone's satisfaction that Corvus really is who he claims to be," he began, frowning. "Since I doubt that there is any documentation of his birth whatsoever."

"That should actually be rather easy. Gringotts. The goblins will recognise him as the Black heir. They have various ways to establish claims to a bloodline and to the Lordship. And that will also give him some protection from the ministry. They can ill afford to deny a Lord of House who has been officially acknowledged by the Goblin nation."

"Wait. Shouldn't I be the heir to Black thanks to Sirius' will? As Harry Potter?" Harry asked, trying to remember what Dumbledore had told him a few weeks ago.

"Well, as his name has not been cleared yet ... his will does not actually count. We were still working on establishing his innocence in the eyes of the ministry, and there was a lot of opposition to work through. But given this new situation, I fear that we will have to stop trying to clear him, so that Corvus Black can claim the Lordship instead," the old wizard explained, looking at Harry apologetically.

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Guess it doesn't actually matter to him anymore, does it? The people who count, do know he was innocent ... and the rest … oh sod them. But what a family name to have to take up."

"I mean I go from being Harry Potter, Saviour of the wizarding world," he declaimed mockingly, making a face. "To being Corvus Black, highly suspect offspring of Death Eaters and scion of a house full of dark wizards and even a supposed mass murderer. I mean, that's not going to win me any friends. Who would want to trust someone like that, especially if they don't know a thing about him?"

His … father nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately you are quite right. You should probably try and play the neutral card. The light side will no doubt be suspicious of you, no matter what you do, while the ones in the Dark Lord's camp will likely try and woe you at first. Your best bet would be to establish yourself firmly with the neutral faction, who want to stay out of the conflict. If you can get those people to be curious about you, they might be approachable enough."

Harry gave him a dubious look, but nodded anyway. And sighed unhappily. He had made his decision. Now he just had do live with it.

oOoOoOoOo

"We need more details, though. Like, where exactly has the boy been hiding until now? If we can prove his heritage, that's fine, but the fact remains that until yesterday he did not actually officially exist," Remus objected. He had remained suspiciously silent while Harry had wrestled with his life changing decision. Had he been afraid that his input would unduly influence Harry?

"We need to be able to tell people _something_. Everybody will be curious about his past, and why he wasn't raised by his mother, and who he was with, and where," Remus continued, voicing some of the main questions that would certainly be asked. Harry knew only to well how _nosy_ people could be. And that was even without taking someone like Rita Skeeter into account.

The atmosphere turned pensive again. Harry felt strange, being for the first time included in layers of plotting together with adults that he would normally never learn about. Then again, it was his own past and future that was being decided in this dark room. His past and future that they would need to keep in the dark as much as possible … which suddenly gave him an idea.

"Why _do_ I need to tell them anything? Can't I just claim that I am protecting the people who hid me, and that giving _any_ information about where I was or what I was doing would put them in danger?"

Remus sudden smile was brilliant.

"Of course! Now _that _is what I call a simple, yet elegant solution. It is perfect. And if you do not tell anything, you cannot make mistakes or give yourself away, either. Cub, you make me proud," Remus said, beaming happily at Harry who felt all warm inside at the praise.

"This way you can avoid giving unnecessary information even to members of the order. Though you should probably behave .. well ... rather distant? Always slightly distrustful. You do not know who you can trust at this point and you would rather just keep everyone away for now. You can be perfectly polite, though."

"Also you should never volunteer any information, and steer conversations away from you by asking your own questions of people. Always be vague yourself, and really curious about others. After all, most people are only too happy to talk about themselves, and they tend to like and appreciate someone who seems interested in them. Even if it is faked interest." The werewolf's smile turned slightly bitter at his last statement.

"We can see about training him in the art of deflecting and avoiding questions," Snape agreed. The look he gave his son was neutral, but there was the hint of a quiet approval that gave Harry's insides an unexpectedly fluttery feeling.

"And we can help by spreading a lot of rumours. We will create a smoke screen of misleading information, and if it comes from different sources, it will be difficult to penetrate to any truth. Especially if the truth does not exist in the first place," he said, fixing his eyes on Harry.

"But you will really need to learn Occlumency this time." Harry met the other man's dark eyes in unhappy shared memories. "I know. But I am certain that this time we will meet with success."

"Because anybody looking for memories of either Harry Potter _or _Corvus Black must find nothing. It is different from what I do with the Dark Lord. I actually have to show him bits of real memories mingled with faked ones. You need to learn to show no memories at all. We do not have the time or means to fabricate false ones," Snape explained.

"However, you will also have to learn to not show your emotions quite so much," he continued with an admonishing look. "It will do little good for you to be able to hide your memories, but give everything away because you display every reaction for everyone to read on your face."

Harry grimaced at the thought, but knew that Snape was unfortunately only too right. "All right," he said in capitulation. "What else?"

"What if someone gets to him with Veritaserum?" Dumbledore voiced another concern.

"We will have to test that, but the truth is that he _is_ Corvus Black. And that he really does not know anything about his background. As for the rest ... it all depends on the questions. It is an ... unique situation really. He really is both persons ... one of them without a history. So unless his interrogator suspects him of being Harry Potter, he cannot easily be asked anything that would give Harry away," Snape mused, clearly fascinated by the question.

"And it is another reason for the Occlumency. A skilled Occlumens can evade questions under Veritaserum by hiding the relevant knowledge even from himself. So yes, prepare yourself for some intense schooling. This time though, Remus can help. He does not know Legilimency, but is a fair Occlumens, so together, and all parties willing this time," Snape had the grace to look guilty himself. "It should be possible. And it will be," he declared, meeting his son's dark eyes with his own.

"It will likely also help you with thinking of yourself as Corvus rather than Harry. You will need to try and submerge your knowledge of Harry as much as you can. I know this will be hard for you," he said apologetically, continuing to stare into his son's unhappy eyes. "I know. I had to give Corvus up when you were born, and now you need to give Harry up to bring him back."

Harry simply looked back at him, trying to put into his eyes how unhappy and torn he still felt about that.

"You did tell us, though, that you did not really like being Harry Potter?" Snape continued a bit uncertainly.

"Not that much, no," Harry agreed.

"And from what I gather, you did not care for Lily's relatives, so not staying with them again is hardly going to be a problem?" Harry nodded, feeling quite relieved at the thought.

"As for your life at Hogwarts ... what parts of that do you really mind loosing?"

Harry frowned as he thought about it. "Actually ... mostly just a few of my friends. I certainly will not miss the attention Harry Potter used to get. And the rest of my life at the school is not going to change that much, is it? I mean, the classes and the teachers won't be all that different. In fact," he gave his father a faint, shy smile. "They might even be better." Snape … his father … nodded in guilty agreement.

"The relationships I had with the people in the other houses weren't all that great anyway. So it's mostly just Gryffindor in general, and my friends in particular that I am going to miss."

"Seeing them every day and having to pretend that I don't really know them well or even be disagreeable to them is going to be hell. But I can't be too close to them. I know that. I can't even try to get to know them again really." Snape looked like he was going to disagree, so Harry continued quickly.

"No, really I can't. I would give myself away. And you will have to help me, too. You can't say anything of the kind of what you said to me before. Not even in private. In fact, none of you should remind me of having been Harry Potter. You will all have to treat me like Corvus, son of Bellatrix," he said imploringly.

'If I am going to be Corvus, I cannot be Harry anymore at all. Which means that I can't really have any part of his life anymore either. And yeah I guess, mostly I won't mind that much," Harry concluded, feeling shocked at his own declaration.

Because while he would miss his closest friends … there were also a lot of things he wouldn't miss about Gryffindor. Because the people there were often too loud. Too nosy. Too exuberant. Too brash and thoughtless. And after what had happened at the ministry … he didn't think they would understand. His friends who had been there, they might be able to. But not the rest. They were still too innocent. Not tarnished.

oOoOoOoOo

"However, even if we do not need to go into great detail, we still need to decide on a basic history for Corvus. Because the way he supposedly lived for his whole life would show up in his knowledge, his behaviour and his speech, and if he grew up somewhere on the continent, he ought to know at least some other language," Remus said, returning to the initial point of the discussion.

Unfortunately both Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be in agreement with him. Harry felt apprehensive. How was he supposed to learn a language in a few weeks? On top of learning Occlumency and schooling his behaviour into something appropriate for Corvus Black, head of House Black?

"Personally I would suggest Spanish," the headmaster said after a moment's thought. "It should be a language spoken in a fairly sizeable country, and too many of the pure-bloods learn French, so we had better avoid that one. And German is just to annoyingly difficult to learn flawlessly."

Remus nodded slowly. "Indeed, and as you no doubt know I am quite proficient in the language … and I have friends all over the country, too."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That _is_ a happy coincidence, isn't it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but felt a bit better about the prospect. Language lessons with Remus as a teacher would not be quite so bad.

"Any objections to this choice?" Dumbledore asked after a moment. "No? Then it is agreed. Remus will teach Harry Spanish, and also generally about the country and its culture. Fortunately, he has just the right looks to be able to blend in easily with the Spanish," he added, giving Harry a considering look.

"Yes, definitely a bonus. Plus we get almost all of South America as a possible additional hiding venue for Corvus," he concluded.

"How about him having lived with some scholar and researcher in Defence against the Dark Arts, who travelled about a lot," Snape put in after a moment. "That way he could legitimately be expected to excel in the subject, and if he was home-schooled, it would explain any deficiencies in other areas. And he would not require any knowledge about other schools."

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Excellent idea, yes. We can spend the rest of the summer going over the material to fill in any gaps, and once you become fluent enough in Spanish, we can even combine the two lessons."

"And it is really the one area of magic where you need as much training as possible," Snape added, giving Harry a forceful look. "Even if you will now be Corvus instead of Harry Potter, the prophecy and the Dark Lord will unfortunately not go away."

Harry looked back at him helplessly and shivered. He could have done without that particular reminder, but once again his … father was right. However …

"Wait," he objected. "I mean, how can the prophecy still be about me? Wasn't it really about … the Potter's child?"

He watched Dumbledore and his father share a long, considering look.

"Actually … it is simply about a child born at a certain time, to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort," Dumbledore expounded slowly, obviously thinking hard. "And even if your parents were Death Eaters … between Bellatrix bearing you in the first place, and Severus hiding you from Tom and then defecting because of you … I dare say that would easily count as three times defiance. And he _did_ mark you," his eyes went to Harry's scar.

"So I am afraid that yes, it still applies to you. And he will not stop hunting for you, no matter how well hidden you may be. Whether you are Harry Potter or Corvus Black does not really make any difference in that regard, I fear," the headmaster concluded, looking earnestly at Harry's unhappy expression.

"You will not have to face him alone, you know," Snape said suddenly. "Your life may be linked to his in some way, but that does not mean that it is only up to you to defeat him. Far from it," he added firmly, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "Believe me. You will not be alone."

"Just as you will not be alone in facing this. Even if it's only the four of us who know this secret," he added at Harry's look of uncertainty. "But together we command enough resources to make this work. And you will _not_ be alone."

And for the moment, at least, it was enough.

oOoOoOoOo

"Actually, I think we need to let one more person in on this," Dumbledore said, breaking yet another contemplative silence.

"Whom and why?" Snape clearly didn't think much of that idea from his expression.

"Nymphadora. She is in the order, she is an Auror, she is actually his cousin and he will be her Head of House. And she will be able to impersonate him without the help of glamours or Polyjuice."

"Well, maybe she can fool people who don't know me that well, but never my friends," Harry interjected.

"And that is the beauty of my plan," Albus' eyes twinkled merely. "She will not have to. We will tell them that you cannot remain at school and need to go into hiding. But since we are trying to keep that fact from people at first, she will need their help in impersonating you. And then later we will stage something to remove 'Harry Potter' from school."

"All right. So once school starts 'Dora takes my place, but my friends think I went somewhere else and that they need to help her to impersonate me. And I show up as Corvus Black?" Harry summarised. It sounded simple. And complicated at the same time.

"Indeed. Which means that at the worst, your closest friends might be suspicious, but we can discourage that thinking quite easily. We can put some temporary glamours on you for now to give you your old appearance back. We just need to make sure no one is here who could see through those," Dumbledore explained his idea.

"Then you can show them the tapestry as Harry, and we tell them that we think we know where Corvus is and that Remus is going to try and bring him here. And after Remus has done so, Nymphadora can pretend to be Corvus, while you meet your friends as Harry. As nobody will know him yet, that should be easy enough."

"And all we need is for 'Corvus' to not being particularly nice to them so they wouldn't want to befriend him much ..." Harry said slowly, feeling dismayed at the though. "And I can tell them that we don't much get along and stay out of each other's way. It means I can at least 'know' my friends instead of being a total stranger - even if we won't be very friendly."

"Yes. We can stage a few meetings with both of 'you' apparently in the same place and they should not become too suspicious. If they can still work it out despite that, they are also clever enough to keep it a secret. And we can always take them under oath, if it becomes clear that they are too close to realising."

"This is sounding more and more like a sleight of hand magicians show," Remus commented from where he was sitting quietly. Harry quite agreed with him.

"It rather is, yes. And without Nymphadora it would be much riskier. As it is, we only need to convince a handful of people who know Harry really well that Harry isn't Corvus, in a controlled setting. And those people will later help us convince the rest of the school," Dumbledore beamed at Snape. "What a positively Slytherin plan, no?"

"You'd better make sure to include Ginny and the twins in the show as well though. Maybe even Neville and Luna. That lot would see through her - they know me too well - and with them to help as well, the rest should be easy," Harry added.

Snape nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the tapestry. "If you wish to use that thing though," he pointed at the fabric hanging on the wall. "We need to put a glamour on it as well."

"Yes, the date would be suspicious. Also after the testing at Gringotts it is entirely possible it will show your name as the father, Severus. I am surprised it does not already, in fact. But again, all we need to do is keep it from the eyes of those who would see through a glamour. We can change the date to an earlier one. And then we had better hide the damn thing."

The old wizard smiled without humour. "It is evidence that could well damn this whole plan otherwise."

"Do you think that we could get the 'discovery of Corvus Black' out of the way later today?" Harry asked after a moment. "A lot of people are going to be here for my Birthday, anyway," he added self-consciously.

"That might be a good idea, Harry," Dumbledore conceded with a gentle smile at him. "Do you think you will be ready for it though?"

Harry looked at him sideways before turning his head away to stare off into a dark corner of the library.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"But I also do not want to drag this out any more than necessary. I'd rather get this over with, you know. Else I'll end up confusing myself or getting second thoughts," he added and ran his hand through the damnable curls. It was hard not to flinch at touching them, but he was not going to let that stop him anymore. Not after having decided for this new life. The curls were just part of it. Deal with it. End of story.

"The sooner I can start being Corvus all the time, the easier it will be," he went on with a sigh. "And really it will not be that hard to get someone to notice the name on the tapestry. They'll do the rest all by themselves, and anyway Remus is going to be here to take over at that point."

"If you think you can handle it and want to set things into motion, by all means go ahead," Dumbledore told him quietly. "Then the three of us should meet with you around lunchtime to sort out the glamours. I had thought to wait so we could sort out things at Gringotts first, but actually having the order become aware of Corvus before that would be the wiser route. After all, there should be a delay between his discovery and Remus being able to 'find him'."

Harry looked back at him and gave a sharp jerk of his chin in agreement. He didn't quite trust his voice at the moment. Yes, he wanted this. Yes, he wanted it over with. But … he would be setting everything in motion. And then everything would change. He eyes strayed to Snape again. His father. Who looked back, calmly. And maybe the faint, proud smile lurking in the corner of his mouth was really there and not just a product of Harry's imagination.

oOoOoOoO

AN: Regarding me rejecting German as a foreign language for Corvus to learn: I am actually a native speaker of German, and I would really not want to ever have to learn this language. It is messy. Mostly thanks to the fun factor of three grammatical genders combined with articles and pronouns declined through four cases. I've known people to get those wrong after three decades of speaking German every day. Oh and horrible irregular verbs, too. By contrast, I managed to pick up a reasonably good conversational level of Spanish in a couple of months, which is why I choose it. Please do not ask me about the Subjunctive, though. No me gusta el subjuntivo. Realmente quisiera que no existiera. Also I was listening a lot to the song 'La Maza' by Silvio Rodríguez, in the duet version sung by Shakira and Mercedes Sosa, while writing these first chapters, so Spanish was much on my mind.

AN: Thanks very much to my first reviewers, especially to totalreadr – it is certainly lovely when something about your work is called 'genius'. And like any other writer, I do appreciate reviews and constructive criticism.


	5. Confidences

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

They had ended up in the kitchen again. Harry had gone to make some tea to keep everyone going, after he found himself yawning for the third time. He had been staring at the brewing pot, contemplating the absolute madness his life had turned into in the course of just a couple hours, when Snape ... his father … had joined him. So he had busied himself with taking out cups, and had found cream and sugar and spoons, and put it all on a tray. The cupboards creaked horribly, the cutlery drawer got stuck like always, and finally he couldn't avoid facing the man across from him any longer. His father. He lifted his eyes to meet the unwavering dark gaze.

And dropped them again. Glared at the teapot. Which had interesting cracks in the glaze. When he peeked up again, through his fringe, he was still met with that dark regard. He wished the other one would just _say_ something. Because he didn't really know how to start talking. And they probably should. But what can you say when you just had your whole life turned upside down, and the man most responsible for it is calmly sitting across from you, watching you. Not saying anything. He was starting to feel a bit irritated.

"Was there anything you wanted, sir," he finally ground out, when the irritation and the silence got too much.

He looked up in time to see his … father raise an eyebrow. He looked … actually amused. Harry blinked, the irritation gone from one moment to the next, and sat up straighter.

"I thought you might want to talk," Snape said calmly, still with that amused look on his face. "And I believe that in private at least, you are entirely entitled to leave of the 'sir'."

Harry looked at him in disbelieve and shook his head. This was getting surreal. Correction: more surreal. Though in truth, the man … his father, he reminded himself yet again … had asked him for a fresh start. But to actually have it happen, to have Severus Snape talk calmly with him and not insult or ridicule him, and to look amused and almost smile at him, was somehow quite hard to process. He blinked again, but the amused gaze was still there.

"Right," he said. "So talk … about what?" He almost added the 'sir' automatically, but caught himself in time. It was kind of strange that normally he had problems adding the honorific, and then when he wasn't supposed to, it wanted to slip in by itself. Just another weird thing to match the rest of the night.

"How do you really feel about your decision?"

Straight for the kill then. Harry looked away, unsure of what he should answer.

"It's difficult," he allowed himself to say after a moment of hesitation. "I still don't know what to think about all of this. I keep wondering if I made the right decision, and at the same time I don't think I could really have made any other."

"You could have continued as Harry Potter. No-one would have blamed you for trying to hide you true parentage."

Now there really was a smile on Snape's face. A very wry one, but it was a smile all the same.

Harry shrugged. "Not really," he disagreed.

"Because you said it … _true_ parentage. Now that I know the truth, Harry Potter just doesn't feel quite real to me anymore. It's like he is a lie. A fake. Even hearing myself addressed as Harry makes me feel uncomfortable."

He watched the eyebrow go up again.

"Was that why you wanted to rush through with having Corvus discovered?"

He shrugged again. "Doesn't help to put it off," he pointed out pragmatically. "I know that I tend to brood. And this isn't something that will get better from brooding and having second thoughts."

"But clearly you aren't really comfortable being Corvus either? At least I doubt you are thinking of yourself that way yet?"

Another shrug. "That will probably take time," he offered. And gave his father a considering look. "I've just never felt really good about Harry Potter in the first place," he confided. Which earned him another raised eyebrow.

"So not wanting to be him was the easy part. Wanting to be someone else … and getting used to everything that comes with being a new person … that's rather more of a challenge."

"And a big part of that challenge is going to be you," he admitted, looking directly into Snape's eyes. "I keep expecting you to treat me like you always have."

Snape actually lowered his eyes at that, breaking their contact. When he looked back up the wry smile was back.

"I'm afraid I have given you every reason too."

"Yeah, well," Harry said distractedly, running his hand through the curls. He _would_ get used to them. "I dare say I will get used to it with time."

"The other thing is that I don't know how to see myself anymore," he continued, finding it unexpectedly easy to confide in this new Snape. Who was apparently quite a good listener when he wanted to. Then again, a spy who couldn't listen well to people probably wouldn't be worth his salt.

"It's rather easy to just go along with how others see you, I mean," he tried to explain his problem. "And quite hard to know what you are really like when absolutely _everybody_ has expectations of you. Especially when people keep telling you constantly that you are just like your parents, and the typical Gryffindor, and things like that. Even my friends are like that in a way. Ron wants me to be his ideal mate, and most of the time it's just easier to go along with him. And you wouldn't believe how much Hermione can nag and badger people, so you just kind of do what she wants, too."

"And you don't think you are like that?"

"Well, for example, how could I actually have been like 'my parents' really? Given that they were neither my biological parents nor raised me? But everyone still saw me like that. You did, too, even if you were always looking at the negative side. And when people keep telling you all the time what you are like … after a while you kind of give up and sort of believe them. Or even start behaving like that, because what's the point? I don't think I've ever managed to get anyone to see _me_."

"I suspect Remus does, mostly," Snape said, tilting his head sideways in contemplation. "His condition has forced him to learn to see past the outward, and he is rather more perceptive than he lets on. And the headmaster does as well, I think."

"Which makes all of two people. Great haul," Harry huffed sarcastically, feeling rather disgruntled.

"Anyway, the problem I have now is that … well, most of the things others saw in me just don't _match_ anymore. It used to be easy to go along with it … and now it suddenly isn't. Just because I know I had different parents, which is ridiculous, really. It shouldn't make that much of a difference!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation.

"Maybe it's because now you actually _know_ that they were wrong, and therefore are more resistant to going along with their views?"

"Yeah, that might be it. But it still leaves me with not knowing how to see myself," Harry repeated.

"In short, the mask that Harry Potter presented to the world has been broken, and you have not yet been able to construct a new one for Corvus Black?"

"Is that all it is? Masks?"

"A great deal unfortunately is, yes. We tend to respond to the expectations of others in certain ways, and with time we develop … corresponding rote behaviours. We do not really think every decision through. Most of the time we just _react_ in a set way. Which was undoubtedly part of the problem I had with you. I applied the way I would have reacted towards … James to you, without checking if it was really the appropriate response. And every time you reacted at all like I thought he would, it reinforced the pattern."

"And that was an explanation, not an excuse," Snape added with a somewhat bitter smile. "Nothing can excuse this terrible short-sightedness on my part. And … that was why I said I needed to discover what you were really like."

"Yeah, well," Harry said again, feeling highly discomfited with being apologised to yet again. This new Snape was just too strange. Nice in a way, but very strange to take in.

"Anyway, I guess I just don't know how people will react to me now, and how I should feel about things. A lot which I've always taken for granted, has just turned on its head," he continued with a sigh, checking the teapot to avoid having to look at his father. The tea appeared to be done, so he started to put a cup together for himself.

"Tea?" he offered, when he felt that his composure was mostly restored.

Snape accepted a filled cup gracefully, but declined cream and sugar. He set it down in front of him, before returning his dark gaze to Harry.

"So what things do you feel differently about now?"

Harry sighed again. The tea had been a short reprieve only. "One of the worst things is the Potters. I can't even think of them as 'my parents' anymore, somehow. And I feel guilty for getting them killed. If they hadn't taken me in, _he_ would not have killed them."

"But if their child had lived, it likely would have been a target, anyway," his father told him earnestly. He could not deny the logic behind the statement. Because the prophecy _was_ awfully vague about which child was meant.

"And I would really like for you to keep thinking of Lily as a mother. She did take you in, she truly loved you, and she sacrificed herself for you as if you were her own flesh and blood. And she was, and will always be, in every way so much more worthy of the accolade of mother than Bellatrix could ever be."

Snape's gaze was serious. Harry found himself nodding in agreement.

"What about James Potter though?" he asked hesitantly.

Snape sighed and looked quite uncomfortable.

"I … do not honestly know. Because I cannot tell you if he ever knew that you were not his son. I just cannot picture him taking _my_ son as his own like this … but then I have never been fair or entirely rational about him. He probably grew up, and I just did not see it. Did not want to see it."

"But if he took you and knew it … he truly should be worthy of my admiration and gratitude. And if he did not know … he still obviously tried to be a good father for you at the very least. In either case he was your father for that time. And it would be most unfair and foul of me to take that away."

"Yeah … I guess so. But it's still difficult for me to keep thinking of them as parents, because I just can't _remember_ them. At all. I mean I was way too young to be able to remember them. So they've always been pretty … abstract to me. Plus I cannot like the way James and the others used to treat you. I mean that was bullying, plain and simple. Even if you did provoke them. But four to one just isn't fair. And Lily shouldn't have given up on you so easily either."

"But they made up for that when they helped me to hide you, surely?"

"How much of that was for your sake, and how much because their own child had just died and they wanted a replacement?"

This question got him a long, considering look from his father.

"What?" Harry snapped, feeling strangely judged and found wanting by that look.

"I must admit, I did not expect you to have quite such a cynical outlook on life," Snape admitted, frowning.

"Well, you said yourself that you don't really know me."

"Yes, and you just managed to reinforce that realisation."

Harry couldn't stop the bitter chuckle that welled up. "I guess there's a lot about me and my life that you don't have any idea about. And you are not alone in that. In truth, I don't know if there is anybody who really, like _really_ knows me."

"But surely your friends ..."

"No," Harry interrupted forcefully. "They don't really know me either. I mean, yeah, they know me better than most. They've been there for a lot of it, after all. But they don't have any idea what my life was like before I got to Hogwarts. Or know what goes on during the summers. And most of all, they can't see into my head. They don't know how I think and feel about things."

"And you never tried to tell them?"

"They wouldn't have understood. Ron … he grew up with this big, happy family. He can't even understand what it's like to be _lonely_. To have no-one who wants you. And then he gets jealous of me! And he's just so … thoughtless and inconsiderate at times. I mean, if you really want the model Gryffindor take someone like him."

"And Hermione … yeah, she is great. Brilliant even. And quite obsessive. And she can be horribly self-righteous at times. And she usually wants things done her way. And often she just can't understand that not all the answers can be found in a book. Or that there are things that just don't _have_ an answer. Or at least not a good one."

"They just can't understand what's it like to have a stupid prophecy looming over you, and having _him_ after you all the time. Knowing that you-know isn't going to give up until he gets me. Knowing that there isn't really any escape," Harry said, and ran his hands through his hair in agitation. He hardly noticed the curls this time.

"And neither of them understand about feeling _guilty_," he added. "To know that you are responsible for getting people killed, and that your presence puts even more people at risk. To know that being friends with someone makes them a target. I know that you always thought I was rash and careless, but I'm not really. Mostly I just didn't know what else to do, or who to turn to for help, and I just couldn't _not_ do anything."

"I know that doing the wrong thing can get people killed. But not doing anything gets people killed, too," he whispered dejectedly.

"I see ..."

"I don't even know why I'm suddenly telling _you_ all these things," Harry said, biting his lip. "Maybe because you are actually finally _listening_. And I've been wishing for a long time that you would do that. And because you do know things about me no-one else does."

"You know, last year," he gestured aimlessly. "You did see a fair few of the bad memories. And I guess I expect you to understand a lot more, what with you being a spy. You know what it's like to live under pressure. And not to trust anyone really, because you can never know who will turn on you," he added darkly.

"You do not really trust anybody, do you?" Snape asked softly.

"No, I don't. I've had too many people turn on me or betray me. Or just be simply unreliable. And now it's even worse. Because now I can't even trust in what I thought was true anymore," Harry's voice sounded horribly dead even to his own ears.

But it was the truth. The only one he had always truly relied upon, had been himself, and now that was possibly gone, too. Because he didn't quite know who he was anymore. Yes, it was only the circumstances that had changed, not himself. But those changed circumstances still cast a totally different light upon him. And in that new light, he just didn't know himself anymore.

"People I hated are suddenly my closest relatives. My parents weren't really my parents. Even if they still died because of me. And if I want to get through this alive, I will have to behave totally differently. I'll have to tell lies all the time. I'm going to have to loose what few friends I had. And keep even more secrets from everyone." He pulled his feet up and hugged them dejectedly.

"But the worst is ... her," he whispered.

"Why her? Why _her_ of all people? Of all the women who could have been my mother, why did it have to be her?" Harry turned desolate eyes on his father.

"I understand..." Snape started to say, but Harry interrupted him.

"Do you? I've kept blaming myself for Sirius' death, but ultimately it was her who killed him. And when I came face to face with her afterwards … I …" his voice broke. He hid his face behind shaking hands.

There was a sharp indrawn breath, and hands fell onto his shoulders. But the silky voice was gentle as his father asked the damning question: "What did you do?"

"Not so much what I did as what I failed to do. What I tried to do," he had to get the words out, he had to make the other understand how much he felt like tethering on the edge of Darkness. How tarnished he had been, even before this night's discoveries had hit him.

"I tried to crucio her," he finally whispered into the stillness.

The hands on his shoulders didn't leave him, but they clenched momentarily. He heard a soft sign.

"But you failed." It was a statement and a question all at once.

"Yes," he whispered. "She even laughed at me for it. I guess I'm just not cut out to enjoy the pain of others, even when I feel they deserve it. But I still tried, and now that I know that she really is … " his voice deserted him again.

"And I guess that is another reason why I feel … _tarnished_. Because now that I know I'm actually her _son_, and well … yours, it's … I don't know how to say it …" he dropped his hands to his lap, looked back into his father's concerned eyes.

"Try?"

"I can't help wondering if one can inherit a tendency to Darkness," he said bleakly. "Or insanity."

"No. Never think that. That is not something foreordained by parentage. And I did not leave the Dark behind for your sake only to let you fall into it, my son," Snape's voice had gone very deep and intense, and his hands now kept Harry from looking away.

"I will not let you fall. I will not," the other wizard's voice was so full of determination and promise that it took Harry's breath away. Staring into his father's dark eyes helplessly, he felt strangely reassured. Maybe it would be all right, maybe it would all work out. And maybe he wasn't lost already.

oOoOoOoOo

"Why did you join him in the first place, though?"

Severus Snape sighed. He had been expecting that question at some point. "Because I was young and stupid? And because the Dark Lord you have met is a pale shadow of what he used to be?"

The boy frowned, apparently dissatisfied with the answer.

"No, let me explain. He was not always so … crude in his methods. Once he was all about seduction. About giving people what they wanted, their deepest, and of course usually darkest desires. He is a master Legilimens after all," Severus said, lost in old memories. "He used to take an _interest_ in people."

"Now he rules through fear … then … he actually managed to make people terribly proud of being loyal to him. Willing to sacrifice themselves for his sake. He was truly a master manipulator."

"As to what made me take the Mark? How about the desire to belong? The need to be accepted and praised for my accomplishments?" He cast his son a knowing look at seeing the youth blanch. "The burning desire for revenge?" He smiled ruefully. "I am afraid the Marauders, and the humiliation they caused me, did their share to drive me into his camp."

"I was also a Slytherin. Many of those my age there were his followers. Do not underestimate peer pressure, especially when it is combined with promises for things you want. And at first, his propaganda seemed … quite reasonable. And my dear father, who was a Muggle," Severus was watching the boy hard at that point and smiled sardonically at seeing his surprised start. "He gave me plenty of reasons to dislike Muggles, too. Oh yes, didn't he now," he laughed without any mirth.

"Take all that, combine it with an unfortunate interest in the Dark Arts … and I was a plum ripe for the plucking," Severus concluded, smiling sourly.

"And he realised of course that I had no real taste for torture and killing. But to be praised and valued for my skill with potions, laced with some mild Muggle baiting … yes, that nicely brought me into the fold. And once you start down that road …" he sighed, eyed the boy to see if he would understand.

"It is what even Muggle armies do. Desensitisation. Start out small, and if you are careful, you can in the end get humans to do just about anything in order to please an authority figure."

"Did you ..."

"No. Though I should say that the reason I didn't go too far down that road was probably the lingering influence of Lily. Or that maybe I am just not the kind of person who would ever willingly torture and rape and derive pleasure from it. But I do not know. In the end, circumstances brought me to my senses. Or brought me desperation, you could say. If not … maybe I would have fallen," he said, looking sad and horrified at some inner vision. "It was even possibly your birth that saved me."

"I still do not know what exactly happened. I likely never will. But I don't see her willingly bear a son out of wedlock, unless it was for some nefarious plan of the Dark Lord's," he sighed wearily. "Which means it is likely she came to me with accusations, or else simply for a potion to end the pregnancy. And I … possibly forced her to continue it? I must have been desperate."

"Do you think she ever wanted me?"

Severus sighed again. "There is no way we will ever know, unfortunately. Those memories are gone for good. We do not really know anything that happened. It's very likely that it was me who brought you to the Potters, and we do know I am your father. But all the rest ... it will probably always remain a mystery. I am sorry." He knew that his eyes were sad. The boy was looking back at him earnestly.

"Why didn't you try and keep me and raise me yourself?"

"I was a Death Eater, about to throw myself on the mercies of Dumbledore and the Order. I was young. I knew nothing of raising children. And as much as I suspect I wanted you _safe_, and cared for, I very much doubt I had the capacity to do so myself. I hardly qualify as a suitable parent even now. I was likely terrified, and desperate. And once I handed you over to Lily, I lost all memory of your as my son. From that moment you were the son of my best friend, whom I had lost, and my school-day nemesis."

"Do you wish it could have been different, though?"

"I don't know. If I had kept you, you might have been raised as Bella's child. Or killed by the Dark Lord. At best I could have run and hid somewhere abroad. None of that strikes me as very good possibilities," Severus tried to explain himself to the dark, questioning eyes of his son.

"But do I wish I could have had a loving wife, and raised you together with her happily, without the Dark Lord to worry about? Certainly. But I might as well wish for paradise." He shook his head. "The circumstances were against both of us from the start."

"We can only try and do our best with what we are given. And the two of us were handed a very bad hand, I fear," he mused, eyeing the boy contemplatively.

"But it is a new game now, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Shall we see about winning it together?"

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming! I'm starting to understand why authors keep asking for them, though, they _are_ kind of addictive. There should be a few more updates in the next couple of weeks, but after that they will slow down, because I'll have posted most of the pre-written material I have.


	6. La Madrugada

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

They had all gathered again in the sitting room, settled around a table with Harry's tray of tea in the middle. As well as his birthday presents, still unopened. He stared at them. The others took their tea, chatting idly about some point of logistics. So he fixed himself another cup as well. It was something to do with his hands. His eyes strayed to the presents again. There were more than he would have thought. After all, none of the guests expected for his birthday party were likely to have sent him anything. He took a careful sip of tea and then started investigating the pile of presents.

It turned out that the extra presents were all from D.A. Members. He felt a bit conflicted about that. On the one hand, it was uplifting to know they thought well enough of him to remember his birthday. That he had made a lasting impression. But on the other hand, it reminded him that the D.A. was now likely a thing of the past, and so he would see most of them only from a distance. Though maybe … they could start up some new club officially, now that the toad was gone? And he would have 'Dora on the 'other side' to help set it up and include Corvus. He was after all supposed to be rather the expert on Defence stuff. He'd have to think about it. And see whether the others would accept Corvus, of course. He sighed, and opened his presents at last.

Dean Thomas had sent him a Gift Certificate for Zonko's, and a funny card with best wishes. Susan Bones had gotten him a box of chocolate frogs and informed him that she had told her aunt about Harry's teaching, and that if she did well on her O.W.L.'s he would be to blame. Or rather thank. Colin Creevey's present was a photo album full of pictures taken at the D.A. sessions. And Lavender Brown had knitted him a shawl. In red, with blue and yellow borders. The message was kind of clear. Yesterday it would have been perfect. Today … it was complicated. He found himself staring at it far too long. And looked up to see Snape watching him, with a calculating expression.

He quickly looked down again; put the thing aside. Parvati and Padma together had sent him a book on wizarding etiquette. Which was a rather … suggestive present, given his social botch-up at the Yule Ball. On the other hand, it would now be dead useful for Corvus Black. Hannah Abbot had found a cute plush toy of a white owl for him, with huge, soulful eyes. Terry Boot had gotten him a leather bound lesson-planer with lovely tooling. And Cho Chang had gifted him a book as well. Only it was a collection of poetry. He … would have to look at that later.

The last two presents were from people he had kind of expected something from. There was a big box from Neville, with carefully packed plant seedlings. His friend had obviously heard Harry was staying at Grimmauld Place, and that the garden there was overgrown and in need of restoring. He reckoned his gardening skills would be up to the task. Plus it might give him something to do when he needed to relax. If he was ever given time to relax, since it looked like they really wanted to fill up his schedule for the rest of the holidays.

The final one was from Luna. It was carefully wrapped in soft tissue, and had a rather peculiar shape. It turned out to be a beautifully crafted dream-catcher. His no-longer aunt had gotten Dudley one of these, after the disaster with the Dementors. Which had, admittedly, scared his no-longer cousin badly enough that he had been suffering from nightmares afterwards. The thing hadn't really helped, as far as he knew. But this one felt magical. And it was scary. Because Luna, strange little Luna had sent him one made with raven feathers. And smoothly polished pieces of obsidian in between the black strings.

Black stone, black strings. And raven feathers. Corvus Black. His hands were trembling as he held it up. How could she have known? And this had been sent before his birthday, too. A hand gently touched his arm. He looked up to meet Remus' concerned gaze.

"What's the matter, Cub? You look like you have seen a ghost?"

He gave the thing a light shake, which sent the feathers dancing. Which drew Remus' attention, and caused him to gasp. The werewolf clearly knew what it was meant to be, and the symbolism of the materials was kind of … obvious, he thought.

"How did she know this was going to happen?" Harry asked, his voice choked.

"Who sent this?" Remus asked, gently touching one of the feathers.

"Luna," Harry replied, staring at the gently spinning construction.

"Ah, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore commented, setting his empty teacup down carefully. "I have sometimes wondered, if that girl doesn't have a touch of real seer about her. Not the kind to make grand prophecies, but one of those who often seem to know just a little bit more about things than they should be able to. Of course with her tendency for … oddness it is a bit hard to tell most of the time."

"Hmm," Remus agreed, carefully studying the dream-catcher. "Though while this is in a way quite subtle, it is simultaneously rather obvious. I mean … black and raven feathers?"

Snape was now also checking the thing, and he had taken his wand out. He was frowning at it, clearly concerned about something. "There appears to be some charm on it. May I?" he asked his son.

"As long as it won't damage it, go ahead," Harry replied, still feeling a bit dazed.

Snape waved his wand in a complicated pattern over the dream-catcher, intoning a short chant in Latin. Harry only caught a few words he recognised from other spells. The result was a softly glowing cloud which enveloped the fragile construction of string and feathers completely for a moment before it disappeared again. Snape's frown vanished and was replaced by a considering look.

"You appear to have a good friend in Miss Lovegood," he said, giving Harry an unreadable look. "Not only does she appear to be oddly … perceptive, but this thing also has a couple of charms on it which are meant to help with sleeping and warding off bad dreams. Which means that, unlike its more mundane counterparts, this dream-catcher will actually work … up to a point."

"Up to a point?" Harry asked, getting up from the couch to hang it carefully from a picture-frame. This one appeared to be a landscape still-life, so there was no danger of upsetting any distant Black ancestors.

"There is an obvious limit to the effectiveness of such charms. Especially given the often violent nature of your nightmares and visions. But it should help, nevertheless. At the very least it will not harm, and be decorative," he added idly, returning his wand to his sleeve.

"Anyway, if you are done with your presents … I believe there are a few more things to sort out," he finished, now sounding a bit impatient.

Harry rolled his eyes, and settled back down onto the couch. Then again, it _was_ getting late. Or early.

oOoOoOoOo

"Right, where were we. Ah, yes. I'm afraid that you will need to be sorted. It would look really suspicious, if we were to just put you in Gryffindor. I mean, why would we put the son of Bellatrix and presumably some unknown Death Eater in that house after all. But if the Hat publicly sorts you there, no one can argue with it," Professor Dumbledore advised Harry gently.

"Indeed. Knowing what we do now, I cannot help wonder how a son of mine and _that_ witch ended up in Gryffindor in the first place," Snape drawled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry hung his head. "I doubt I will be in my old house again," he said, trying to sound unconcerned, and let his gaze drift over to meet Snape's … his _father's_ eyes. Who arched an eyebrow in question. The headmaster, by contrast, was looking altogether too gleeful, but then he had known for a while about Harry's history with the Sorting Hat. Remus just appeared mildly puzzled.

"And what makes you think the Hat will not put you into Gryffindor again?" Snape finally asked, when Harry didn't immediately elaborate.

Harry felt himself blush. He shifted around on his seat and nervously looked away.

"Because it did not want me there in the first place," he admitted softly. "It thought I should go to … Slytherin instead. It claimed I would do well there, and that the house would help me achieve greatness and stuff like that," he added.

"And you … refused it?" Was there actually an edge of … hurt in his father's voice?

"Yeah. I … ended up begging it to put me somewhere else," he said. Great explanation, Mr. ... Black. That likely made it worse.

"You see, Malfoy had just been sorted there," he added in a rush. "And I had a bad encounter with him on the train. And I was told that Voldemort had come from there, and all the really bad wizards," he finished, feeling breathless.

"I … see," Snape said, disapproval heavy in his tone. It was kind of obvious that he took Harry's rejection of his House at least partially as a personal rejection. Only it had happened _then_. Not now.

"Oh, I know better now. It was really quite stupid. But when you are eleven, and haven't got a clue about … well anything … of the place you are suddenly at, and the only people who have been kind to you tell you stuff … it's hard not to believe it?" He finally dared to look back at … his father.

"Anyway, you should realise by now I'm hardly the model Gryffindor," he challenged, staring into dark eyes. "So I doubt the Sorting Hat would want to put me there a second time."

Snape's face was still unreadable, closed off.

"So," Harry sighed unhappily. "I'm not overjoyed at the idea of joining Slytherin, but I'm pretty sure that's where I will end up … this time." He watched his father's face carefully.

"It should make things easier, too," he added, trying to find some way to diffuse the tension.

"I mean, I don't know if I could keep up the pretence, if I was constantly around my old friends," he explained. "It would be so much harder not to slip up, and show that I know things Corvus Black couldn't possibly know, if I was around them all the time. And I would really like to tell them, but I also know it would be a really bad idea," he admitted.

"Yes, it would be," Snape agreed, his eyes still hard. "But I dare say I can … understand your reasons."

"However, if you are sure you will end up in _my_ house this time," he drawled, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "It will make it easier for me to protect you and keep a close eye on you. Which I am sure will please _both_ of my masters," he added sardonically.

"And I dare say I could come to develop a … quite different official relationship with one of my Slytherins, than to some strange Gryffindor," he allowed, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry drew a shaky breath. It felt like some great cliff had been negotiated. There had been some minor scraps and dents, but the waters ahead, while still choppy, looked more manageable.

oOoOoOoOo

"What about my scars though?" Harry asked after a few more minor details had been seen to.

"Hmm, layered glamours. Cast by all of us. That should make them nearly impossible to see through. And we are only trying to hide one small area, which will strengthen the glamours. And maybe with a layer of Muggle make-up added for good measure."

Snape inspected his son critically. "If we can keep the hair out of your face altogether, it would be for the best. And you do not need your glasses anymore, so that element is gone ... though how and why Lily managed to give you bad eyesight ..." he shook his head in puzzlement. "_That_ was taking the 'make you look like James' thing way too far."

Harry couldn't have agreed more. That was one silver lining to this whole disaster. No more glasses.

"What did you mean by 'scars' in plural, though?' Trust his father the spy to pay attention. Harry sighed and put his right hand down flat on the table. That scar had not gone away either. I shall not tell lies. Now more than ever, he was going to tell lies. Lots and lots of lies.

The other three were all staring at the back of his hand. In the gloom the letters were hard to make out, and so Harry wasn't surprised when Snape grabbed his hand and inspected it closely.

"How," he snarled angrily. "Did you come by _that_?" His father … his _father_ … seemed to be most displeased. Harry couldn't help smile slightly.

"Detention with Umbridge. She had this quill …" he didn't get any further.

"She used a _blood quill_ on my students?!" Albus Dumbledore didn't look like everyone's grandfather anymore. Right now he looked furious enough to draw and quarter the witch in question on the spot. And the other two looked quite ready to assist him.

"If that's what it was … I wasn't the only one. Just the one she used it on the most, I guess."

"And you never told anyone about it?" The three adults still looked thunderous. Not to mention murderous.

"I tried to tell Professor McGonagall about it. But she just told me to keep my head down. Dunno if she really realised about the quill though ..." He didn't want to see his Professor in trouble because of this. Those three looked like they had a lot of thunder to share around right now.

"If Minerva had known about it, she would have ripped that woman to bits," Snape commented, his eyes hard. "And I am appalled to find just how _much_ you have managed to keep from me … from us."

"Ehm … I guess so?" Harry admitted.

"Anyway … can you do anything about the scar?" he asked hopefully, trying to diffuse the thunder again.

Snape went back to inspecting the scar carefully. He finally took out his wand and cast a few spells over Harry's hand, which enveloped it in glowing clouds and made it feel itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch.

His father finally sighed and shook his head. "I am afraid not. It's a curse scar, like the other," his eyes flicked towards Harry's forehead. "And it has been repeated over and over again, which deepened the damage to an unholy extent. We can only try to hide it ..."

"Which will be tricky, as glamours do not hide touch well at all," Remus concluded, with worry in his voice.

"Yes, so anybody who touched his hand would feel it," Snape admitted in a sour tone of voice. "I do not know what else we can do though."

"So glamours and I wear gloves a lot?" Harry offered finally when none of the others said anything more.

"At best a short time solution," Remus commented, frowning. "I have a vague idea about something … which might be painful though," he warned at seeing Harry's hopeful expression. "I will have to look into it."

oOoOoOoOo

"Oh, one last thing," Harry said to the headmaster when it looked like things were about to break up. He had had to stifle several yawns in the last few minutes.

"Yes, dear boy?" Dumbledore asked him kindly.

"Well, I mean, there were supposed to be those blood wards on Privet Drive, no? Dunno how they worked in the first place, since I'm not actually related to Aunt Petunia after all … but with all this, isn't it possible they stopped working altogether?"

The headmaster looked at him gravely. "That is possible, yes. And you are right, they should not have worked unless … well Lily and Petunia _were_ sisters, and since it was Lily's sacrifice which enabled them … as long as Petunia thought you were her relative they still worked? I will have to examine this."

"But I take it you are worried that they have fallen and your … ehm … Lily's relatives are now in danger from Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head sideways in question.

Harry simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't like the Dursleys. Asking for anything for their sake felt a bit wrong. But they didn't deserve what Voldemort would do to them. Nobody deserved that, not even his tormentors. And he might not care about them, but he certainly didn't want their deaths on his conscience, either.

"I will go and check, and if the wards are truly gone, we shall move them for now. And see about establishing some other means to protect them. And I am proud of you that you still concern yourself for them, even if they were not really your relatives," the old wizard said, smiling at Harry.

"Yeah well," he said, feeling uncomfortable. He just didn't deal well with praise. "I wouldn't wish Voldemort on anybody. So if you can see that they are safe, that would be good. Aside from that, I really don't want to see them ever again."

"All right, Harry. Or maybe I should start calling you Corvus," Dumbledore said gently, with a sad look in his eyes.

Harry squirmed. It wasn't his fault he could not like them better. The Dursleys had only their own behaviour to blame for that.

"Yeah," he agreed. "At least from tomorrow on. Today I'll still have to be Harry Potter."

And Harry Potter collected his dream-catcher from the picture-frame, and went up to bed.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus was looking after his son with a thoughtful expression.

"We should get some rest ourselves," Albus advised from behind him. The old wizard sounded rather weary.

"If I can sleep. There is … a lot to think about," he sighed. The boy's life was not the only one which had been turned upside down within just a few hours. The boy. He should really start thinking of him as Corvus. Which was better than … Harry.

"You talked with him earlier, didn't you?"

"Yes. It was … enlightening. And just a bit frightening, too. I always thought him the self-confident, thick-headed Gryffindor. Instead I find he has the most fragile self-esteem, and serious trust issues. And he is rather more cynical than I would ever have thought."

"And that worries you, doesn't it?"

"Shouldn't it? Given how much like me he has turned out to be, and what road I nearly went down when I was his age? And he told me that he already feels … tarnished. He even asked me if a tendency to Darkness and insanity was inherited."

"Given all that has happened to him recently, do you find that terribly surprising? Which is why he really needs someone to guide him now. Else he will slip into depression, or worse, temptation."

"Albus, do you seriously believe that he is more susceptible to the Dark now?" Severus exclaimed, horrified. He had not expected his mentor to actually agree with his fears.

Albus Dumbledore would not meet his eyes.

"Yes and no," the older man's answer was evasive. "I do not think he is, just because of who his parents are, no. Certainly not that, dear Severus. But I do believe he is more vulnerable to self doubt, and to feelings of upset and distrust because the foundations of his world have been badly shaken. He never had much stability in his life, and what little he had, has now been taken from him. Plus he is a teenager, those are always bundles of hormones."

"And while he did not inherit … evil or even Darkness from his mother, she probably bequeathed him a certain tendency towards … mental instability. And Severus, this is not meant as a slight, but … your mother had her own brand of that, too, while your father was a rather violent and temperamental man." Albus' eyes sadly watched the flush of shame and anger cross the features of the younger wizard.

"Add your own temper, as well as your stubbornness and contrariness, which he seems to have inherited to some degree. Then mix in a bad upbringing by magic hating Muggles. And finally finish it off with having had a big shock, which turned everything he thought he knew about his background to dust," he continued seriously. "Tell me, what kind of potion would you brew from that?"

"A rather explosive one. Explosive and corrosive." Severus turned his face away. "Albus, how am I supposed to deal with this? With him?"

"The good thing is that the boy has basically an optimistic personality. In truth, I do not know where that came from, but it just shows that we are not doomed to be like our forefathers. And despite all that has happened to him, and his lack of trust in humanity, he can still be amazingly forgiving."

"Yes," Severus agreed with a sigh. "Which keeps surprising me. Mind, he got upset and resentful at me several times. But aside from that, he seemed quite willing to look beyond the past and actually trust me to some extent. In fact, I gained more confidences of his, and insights into him, than I would ever have thought possible so quickly," he shook his head in wonder. "And all for the price of simply listening to him without judging. Of asking questions without rancour. For showing simple interest and understanding."

"To be honest, I am surprised by how quickly _you_ came around," Albus said, giving him a searching look.

Severus snorted and looked away uncomfortably again. "I was shocked into it mostly. And it's not as if I did not have plenty of evidence over time that the boy was really nothing like what I wanted to see. And now that has all crashed down and left me no other way out but admit that I was wrong."

"It's not as if I have suddenly discovered that I 'love my son' or something," he sighed wearily. "But I just cannot deny him. I cannot reject him. He is in this world because of me, because of me he grew up thinking himself a Potter, because of me he has had a pretty bad life, because of me he is now in this situation."

He met Dumbledore's eyes. "How can I deny my responsibility for his life? He did not ask for any of this!"

Albus nodded in guilty agreement. "Between all of us, we have certainly managed to make life unpleasant for him."

"Indeed. I cannot but feel horribly guilty. How could I end up mistreating him for being James' son … when he is mine? He really did not deserve most of what I dished out to him. And I feel even more guilty because there were too many people who tried to tell me I was wrong … and I never wanted to listen."

"Crucifying yourself over it will help no one now, though," Albus advised gently. "We all made mistakes. The only way to deal with them now, is to make amends. We cannot change the past. But we can try to create a better future."

"So I keep telling myself. I might even start to believe it eventually," Severus agreed morosely. "And I also feel rather … proud of him."

"Proud?"

"I am quite surprised by how well he is handling this situation. Granted, he is likely still in shock, too, but … from a normal teenager you would expect complaints, hysterics, raging against fate …. he just takes it and tries to move on."

"We have not left him much room to be otherwise. There was never anyone in his existence who would have listened to him. And he had little control over his life so far."

"What child truly does, Albus? The real difference is that his fate has been troubled, unpleasant and dangerous by comparison to 'normal' children."

"Yes. I am afraid he truly does not think of himself as 'normal' at all," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "For which I am largely to blame. I should never have left him with those Muggles … and later I should have shielded him better from the reactions he got in our world."

"You should have, yes. Just as I should have done many things differently. But you know what makes me feel really ashamed of myself? That despite all that, he is still capable of accepting me, of somehow actually _wanting_ me," Severus said disbelievingly.

"Just remember this when his good behaviour eventually runs out," Albus reminded him. "No doubt once he is over the worst shock he will rebel and test whatever boundaries you set him."

Severus sighed but nodded his agreement. "Oh, without doubt he will do so. But I do not think that I will be able to forget what I owe him. As things stand now, he is a walking guilt trip to me."

Albus sighed and smoothed his beard. His eyes looked very tired. "Well, we shall cross that bridge when we reach it. Right now I need some sleep though. There is much to be done later today. I bid you a good night … as much as is left of it."

Severus Snape watched the headmaster disappear through the floo, staring sightlessly at the fire for a few minutes afterwards. No doubt the future would sort itself out. But what a difference a mere few hours could make in changing it beyond belief ...

oOoOoOoOo

A little while later he was safely back in his own quarters. He set himself to re-examine what he knew of his newly discovered son in light of all he had learned about Corvus during this long night. Because if you removed what he had taken to be Potter traits, a very different picture emerged. He now also knew that the Hat had considered the boy as a potential Slytherin. And that he was quite adept at hiding things, at presenting a false mask to fool the whole world. And underneath that mask … it seemed they had a great deal in common indeed.

No, the boy was definitely not the golden Gryffindor. That had always been just a pretence, he suspected. And together with what he had gone through recently, it was no wonder he felt tarnished, and at the edge of Darkness. In fact, it was a demonstration of his character that he had not fallen in yet. There seemed to be something eternally _pure_ about the boy, some quality that allowed him to overcome hardships and temptations, and still emerge essentially the same. And amazingly willing to forgive.

That, he would never have expected. How easily the boy had opened up to him. How merely _listening_ to him had earned Severus confidences that the boy likely had not shared with others before. And how desperate he was for reassurance. Albus had been quite right, the boy badly needed a parental figure in his life. And not even for love. It was for understanding. For comprehending what it was like to stand at the edge of the abyss, and yet turn your back on it and walk away. And to be wanted and accepted despite feeling unworthy of it.

Yes, he understood the boy much better than he would have thought possible. Now that he was applying his own character and reactions as the basis, and not James'. They were in many ways horribly alike. No wonder they had clashed so much, when he had treated the boy like James. Treated someone who reacted a lot like himself, as if he were someone who was almost the polar opposite. No wonder the boy kept blowing up at him. It must have felt terribly unfair.

How easily they could have gotten along instead … if he had not been blinded by his hatred for a dead man. And maybe a lot of things would have been different, if only he had listened with an open mind. But at least it seemed that listening now was still worth something. Maybe it would not be so very difficult at all. Because against all expectations, beyond all reasons to the contrary, his son still wanted him as a father.

It was amazing. And almost frightening.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His own reflection. Only it was still a stranger who looked back at him. Corvus Black. He was Corvus Black. Harry Potter was a lie. Had always been a lie. He was Corvus Black, son of an insane murderess, and an unpleasant git of a father whom he had strongly disliked until ... a few hours ago, really. There seemed to be no room left for that dislike anymore. He pressed his forehead against the cool, flawed surface of the old mirror. The night was slowly ending, the dawn was creeping in. He closed his eyes in desperation. Because the nightmare never would. He lived the nightmare now.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Uff, this long night is finally finished. It only took me about 25k words to tell a tale of about five hours worth of time … and I ended up with one more chapter than originally planned, too. Mostly due to Severus and Harry just wanting to talk more with each other …

La madrugada is the Spanish word for dawn/those late hours of the night just before dawn. I have always found the word oddly fascinating, so I couldn't resist using it as the chapter heading.

mizzrazz72: Yes, she will likely not be pleased. :)

Harry could get into his vault with the key that Hagrid gave him of course. If there are other Potter vaults, he will likely loose those, though. On the other hand, he will definitely inherit the Black money, and that is supposed to be a fortune, too. So no matter what, Corvus isn't going to be a pauper anytime soon.

(R!):Your reviews did actually make it, I just had the setting for guest reviews on 'pending approval for the first 36 hours'. I've changed that now. Thanks for the kind words, they caused me to have to update my profile. ;)

No I'm Sirius: thanks for the assorted approval ;)

adenoide: This story will be about Harry going to Hogwarts under a different name and looks.

If I were to tell the story of how Harry went elsewhere to train, it would read something like this: Harry goes abroad to train, meets a lot of OCs that I can't be bothered to invent in detail, gets trained to superawesome levels, comes back and kills Voldie, and everyone lives happily ever over. There, story finished. And sorry, that is just not the kind of story I want to write. :)


	7. Birthday Boy

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

He woke up after a few hours of rather restless sleep, still feeling emotionally wrung out. Strangely the events of the night were all very clear in his memory. Which meant that at least he was spared a repeat of the feelings of dread as he realised, that yes, it was all true. He knew right away it was all true. He also did not want to get up and face the awful reality of his new-found identity.

But he knew someone would come and get him if he didn't show up soon. The lack of sunlight, which usually made the heavy drapes shine oddly in the morning hours, indicated that it had to be approaching noon. And so he pushed the covers away and sat up. Toes fishing for the slippers under the bed, he grabbed his glasses. Stared at them and put them back down again with shaking hands. Right. No need for glasses anymore. So he got up and opened the drapes and busied himself with looking for what he would wear today. On what would essentially be his last day as Harry Potter. Because tomorrow he would have to start being Corvus Black instead.

Corvus Black. He turned the name over on his tongue, felt its strange weight. He didn't actually mind the Black. It reminded him of Sirius, and it was easy enough to imagine that his godfather had adopted him. Only of course Sirius was dead. Dead. Gone forever. And the people who were most responsible for his death were … himself … and his mother. He shuddered and felt despair starting to well up. He squashed it resolutely. Best not to go down that lane. He turned his mind to the other half of his new name instead.

Corvus … now that was an unusual name. Of course, after a few years of astronomy, he knew it was a constellation, like Orion and Sirius and Regulus. Quite a typical name for his family, really. He wondered if Bellatrix had been the one to chose it. And what it meant if she _had_ actually named him. Corvus was also the Latin word for raven. The black bird of ill omen. So ... he was the Black Raven. And ill omens had followed his life from the start. Child of a dire prophecy, his … adoptive parents murdered because of him. Plenty others as well who had died for or because of him since. A fitting name for him, then.

He stared at the faded jeans in his hands, slowly took a black T-Shirt from the shelves. Black would suit his maudlin thoughts, he decided. He just didn't feel cheerful right now. And all too soon he would have to pretend to be. Merlin, how could he make it through this day? The Weasleys and Hermione were due to arrive after lunch, for an afternoon spent happily together. Chatting, talking about their summer so far. What plans they had for the rest of it. Harry Potter would have looked forward to his birthday party, to seeing his friends again. But Harry Potter had not really made it through the night. He sighed heavily and rested his head against the wardrobe, closing his eyes in defeat.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs and along the corridor, making the old wood creak. He opened his eyes again, and reluctantly turned to face the door which opened after a knock. Remus stuck his head inside and his face clouded in concern when he spotted Harry leaning dejectedly against the wardrobe.

"Oh Cub," he said softly, crossing the distance between them swiftly and drawing Harry against him to give him a hug.

"I ..." he broke off in frustration. "I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right. But that will not help you right now, I know. I want to ask you if you _are_ all right," he continued, hugging Harry harder.

"But I know that you likely are not. I want to wish you a Happy Birthday … and I do … but I know it will probably feel like a farce of one to you. This is not a birthday present I would wish on anyone, least of all you." Remus gave him another squeeze, and then just held Harry, gently stroking his tousled hair.

Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to keep from crying at the sympathy in the werewolf's voice. Remus was just too right. And all this was not really that much of a big deal in a way … and at the same time it was. Terribly so. Because it changed everything. His life was now a lie, or rather had been one before and now wasn't anymore. Only now he would have to lie to all his friends, and pretend to be … who he was. Harry Potter had no reality, but neither had Corvus Black. Not yet, at least.

"One day at a time," he heard Remus say. "You have to take it one step after the other. Try not to think about it too much. There is nothing you can really do about it, and over-thinking will not help. Just concentrate on getting though this day. Tomorrow will sort itself out. Things _will_ get easier. And we are all here for you. You will not be on your own."

He tilted Harry's head up. "Come on. One step at a time. And today you are Harry Potter, eager to meet your friends and celebrate your birthday. Just think about that. The rest does not matter right at the moment," he stated, looking intently at Harry.

Harry nodded after a moment. He could do that. He lined the words up in his mind, set them to repeating like a mantra. He was Harry Potter, eager to meet his friends. He was Harry Potter, who would now go and take a bloody shower. Harry Potter would get dressed in Harry Potter's clothing. Harry Potter then would have lunch with his teachers. He screwed up his face. Harry Potter would bloody well do this. Harry Potter would go and bravely face what looked to be the last day of Harry Potter. And Harry Potter would not cry like a baby just because he didn't know anymore who he was.

He pushed himself away from Remus, nodding again. "Right," he said, looking for his wash bag while fishing his clothes from the floor, where they had ended up when Remus had grabbed him.

"I'll be down after a shower," he said simply, not trusting himself to say more.

Remus studied his face for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "You _can_ do this," was all he said before he left.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Half an hour later Harry Potter, cleaned, dressed and combed – the long, curly hair was a nuisance he had decided, even if it was more manageable – went downstairs. He had avoided looking into the mirror as much as he could. It was hard being Harry Potter when you didn't _look_ like Harry Potter. Which meant he should probably have a good long session with his reflection after they put the glamours on him.

He didn't really feel hungry, as his stomach still felt in knots from … no. He would not think of the night. Harry Potter would not think of it, and instead go and eat lunch. He pushed the kitchen-door open and felt his stomach do another slow turn as he saw the three men waiting for him. Remus was fine of course, and Dumbledore was giving him another one of his fond smiles. But Harry's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the third man, as usual dark and forbidding even though he wore comparatively light robes. Still black ones, of course. Severus Snape's face was a study in careful neutrality.

So. He could do this. Harry Potter would go and talk with Corvus Black's father, who just happened to be a teacher that Harry Potter did not like very much. But he could be polite and just not think about things. As he stood in the doorway, vacillating, he watched a frown form on his … Professor Snape's face. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Apparently Harry Potter couldn't do this after all.

"Harry? Are you all right?" he heard Dumbledore ask in concern. Harry realised his hands were trembling slightly. He opened his eyes again, fixed them on the dark-haired man whose face had gone unreadable and shuttered. Disregarded the others.

"Sir? Could I speak with you for a moment?" he forced himself to say, trying hard to keep his voice even. Watched suspicion and maybe even a trace of hurt go through Snape's eyes. Drat, he had forgotten about the 'sir' again. But the other man assented and got up, moving to the door gracefully. Harry backed up and perched himself on the stairs, aiming his eyes resolutely on the banister. He heard the door close. And drew a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, trying to forestall the other from speaking. "I ….. today I need to be Harry Potter. And I can't think of you, or anything that happened this night, or tomorrow even. If I do, I think I'll break down." The banister was rather dusty. His finger was drawing swirls in the dust.

"And I can't think of you … today … as anything but a teacher that Harry Potter doesn't really like at all." He knew that his voice was unsteady despite his best efforts. He didn't want to look at the other man. Didn't want to see his face or what he might read there. He waited.

"I understand," he finally heard after a lengthy silence. "I will leave after we have done the charms. Do not worry yourself," the voice was smooth, soft, blessedly devoid of criticism. He felt deeply grateful for that. "Tomorrow will be soon enough."

A hand touched his head gently in what almost felt like benediction. He leant into it, felt oddly comforted by the brief contact, and suddenly bereft when it left him again. But Harry Potter would not cry that he didn't have a father to comfort him, no sir. Harry Potter was used to that. Harry Potter would go and have lunch and then meet with his friends to celebrate his birthday. He followed his … teacher back into the kitchen.

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oOoOoOoOo

The next half hour had been fairly torturous. The three older men had immediately started with the charms, though they were eventually forced to use a pensieved memory to guarantee that he looked exactly like he should. Fortunately, the only parts of him affected were really his face and hair, which made their work easier. The way the charms had been carefully woven together by his teachers would hopefully reduce the risk of anyone penetrating their work. However, it had taken them several tries to get it just right. All the while Harry had been sitting there, staring fixedly at the broken handle of a kitchen cupboard. Running his Harry Potter mantra through his head.

He was aware that his … Professor Snape had given him some odd, thoughtful looks, but he had steadfastly refused to directly meet the other man's eyes. Instead he had concentrated on remembering past meetings with his friends, of happy moments and laughing together. On remembering Harry Potter's summer so far. A couple of weeks being bored and ignored at the Dursleys, and then here with Remus. Which was bad, because the house made him remember Sirius, but still better than stuck with his relatives. Harry Potter's relatives, he reminded himself. Corvus Black wasn't related to them _at all._ Which really meant no more Dursleys, ever. He perked up at _that_ thought.

When the three wizards had finally pronounced themselves satisfied with the result of their efforts, Professor Snape had excused himself and left. Which was perfectly all right with Harry Potter. Who would want the old bat from the dungeons spoiling their birthday after all? Harry Potter would totally ignore the way that his eyes stung. That was probably just the dust anyway. So he had gone and checked out his Harry Potter face in the bathroom, and then settled down to eat lunch.

Fortunately the other two had avoided the subject of the night before, or possibly his … Professor Snape had talked with them about Harry's problem. And a few hours and some new information should not really make _that_ much a difference about how he felt about the man. But thoughts and feelings were apparently really treacherous and didn't want to behave the way they should. Bastards.

.

oOoOoOoOo

And then he had been waiting nervously with Remus in the sitting room. The older man had tried to distract Harry with lively anecdotes from his travels on the continent. Harry had even laughed and enjoyed his favourite teacher's gentle jokes. But finally the floo flared and the Weasley clan descended on them, complete with Hermione. Mr. Weasley was unfortunately delayed at the ministry, and his two eldest sons couldn't get away from their work, either. Percy had not been invited in the first place.

Harry Potter was really happy to see them all. He was swept up in numerous hugs, heard exclamations of pleasure, endured being asked how he was and being congratulated on his birthday. And nobody seemed to notice that his answers were rather vague, or how often he turned their questions right back at them, asking about their summer instead. Aside from Remus, of course. He could feel the older wizard's eyes on him quite often, and his smile was reassuring whenever Harry turned to meet his eyes.

Harry Potter had the time of his life. He also had pastries, and sandwiches, and tea and Butterbeer and sweets, though he avoided everything the twins handed him. Because right now he was rather unsure about looking like anything but Harry Potter. But he laughed as Ron's hair turned green with purple stripes, and Hermione screamed in outrage at being turned blue with yellow polka dots. Smiled softly at Ginny who was retelling some of the twin's choicer escapades from this summer.

And then there were more presents. Really, he had never gotten so many presents in his whole life. Mrs. Weasley of course presented him with a new knitted jumper, and had brought a delicious looking cake with sixteen candles spaced evenly around it. The twins proudly presented him with a big box full of assorted prank items, which predictably did not go down too well with their mother. Harry suspected they would get a scolding later for leading him into temptation. If only all temptations were so harmless …

Ron had gotten him new quality gloves for Quidditch. Which was a nice present in itself, but yet another thing which reminded Harry of his impending loss. Because he would no longer be the Seeker for Gryffindor. Yes, his ban had been lifted, or so Dumbledore had told him. But he was not likely going to be in Gryffindor again. Not unless the Hat did the unexpected and insisted in putting him back there after all. And even if he should end up going back to the house of the Lions, he still wouldn't be Harry Potter, star seeker. Instead he would be Corvus Black, who likely wasn't too great at the game. Because he would have to hide his Quidditch talent to avoid comparison with Harry Potter.

Fortunately Ginny distracted him from his increasingly morose thoughts when she shyly offered him a small parcel gaily wrapped in colourful paper. The content made Harry smile again, as a small golden play-snitch escaped the wrapping. It hovered playfully in front of his nose, emitting charming twittering noises, before zooming rapidly about the room.

"It's charmed to respond to a few simple commands," Ginny explained. "Like 'come', 'follow' and 'avoid'. There are some instructions in the package. I'm afraid it's no good for training real Quidditch, but they are quite amusing and good for the reflexes."

Harry had to agree with her as he watched the antics of the small golden thing. It seemed to delight in hovering next to people's heads, only to dart away when they turned towards it. And the twittering sounded just like a small happy bird. He tried telling it to 'follow Ginny' and had to laugh as the redhead started a game of dodge with the little snitch. Yes, this was a good, happy gift. Something to make him smile.

Hermione gifted him with a dicta-quill. She thought that it would be useful for note taking, as it was charmed to write down spoken words exactly. Harry was pleased to find that it could be set to a specific handwriting. Because he would have to try to change the way he wrote. That had been another topic discussed … half a day ago. It just wouldn't do for anybody to recognise the handwriting of Corvus Black as that of Harry Potter. Fortunately he always had an untidy scrawl, so trying to write legibly instead would already go a long way to disguising his writing.

But if he could set the quill to write with his old handwriting … that would be useful. That way 'Harry' could continue to write letters to his friends. And maybe it would also be something for 'Dora to use when she had to do 'Harry's' homework. Though there might be a charm to take care of that instead. There were after all advantages to having an Auror impersonate you. And really there was an amazing number of things to take into account for their mad plan to work ...

Finally Remus had gotten him several advanced Defence books, which he tendered with a slightly apologetic smile.

"I'm afraid this is a rather boring present," he explained. "But I thought you might have use for them, what with your past extracurricular activities," he finished with a wink.

Harry just smiled at him happily and gave his teacher a hug. Naturally Hermione immediately wanted to check the books out, but Harry prevented her by laughingly holding them out of reach.

"Do you really want to spend my birthday reading my presents?" he asked her with a smirk. Which caused her to blush a bit uncomfortably and laugh ruefully.

"Well, you know me and books ..."

"Oh yes. Whoever you end up marrying will probably only ever have to worry about you eloping with a library," he teased her.

Which of course made her blush even harder.

And then they were lighting the candles on his cake. Harry looked at his friends while they sang him a birthday song and the candles flickered merrily. And tried not to feel his heart break at the thought that Corvus Black would only be seeing them from a distance.

Because Corvus had chosen having a father over having friends. At least for the foreseeable future. He might get new ones, of course. He couldn't really imagine making friends amongst the Slytherins, but he had to admit that he didn't know most of them that well. And not all of them were Death Eater spawn. Of course he was now essentially Death Eater spawn himself. He winced at the thought. Tarnished forever. But that was Corvus. Right now he was still … Harry Potter.

He met Remus' eyes across the room. Harry Potter could do this. And Harry Potter would now blow out the candles, and wish for … for …. everything to turn out all right. He blew as hard as he could. Watched the smoke spiral upwards. Saw Hermione giving him an odd look.

"You look like you need a break," she commented. "Lets grab some cake and go to the library."

Trust Hermione to associate libraries with places of well-being. He groaned inwardly, remembering what else was in the library. He followed her anyway, after accepting a slice of cake from Mrs. Weasley, who had taken over cutting it up. He was trying hard not to think of what lay ahead. He felt Remus' eyes on his back again as he left the room and turned for a moment, meeting the pointed look in the werewolf's eyes. But Remus just nodded at him calmly and smiled reassuringly.

The library was fairly dark even now, but with the windows open to the summer air it felt much less gloomy than … last night. And it was nice and quiet.

"This place is really getting to you, isn't it?" Hermione asked softly when he settled himself next to her on the deep window-seat.

"Or is it … Sirius, still?" she added hesitantly.

Trust the girl to come straight to the point, while missing it completely. He sighed. It was something he could let her believe. It was true, anyway. Just not all the truth. Not even the worst part of the truth, anymore. But still, not a lie.

And he could just imagine her reaction if he told her the truth: 'Hey did you know Bellatrix is my mum? No really, I'm her illegitimate love child with Snape. Why are you throwing up? Oh, and incidentally, Malfoy is now my cousin.' Yeah, that would go down really well.

"Yeah, it's been hard since … well you know," he allowed, letting his eyes drop and stalling a moment longer by taking a bite from his cake and chewing, while he worked out what to tell her. She looked sympathetic.

"I feel guilty, and upset, and my feelings are just such an awful muddle at times. It's hard being happy, if you know what I mean," he said, giving her a wretched smile. Let her blame any strange behaviour of his on that. He toyed with his spoon, took another bite. It was really excellent cake.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry," she said, touching his hand in entreaty. He refused to meet her eyes.

"I can't help it. If I had only listened to … people ... Sirius would still be alive, and none of you would have been hurt," he told her sadly.

"So why don't you try to do that more from now on? You know, in his memory?"

He froze. She was right, of course. Now more than ever. Harry Potter had messed up big time thanks to rushing in and not listening. Or rather listen to the wrong person … Voldemort. Corvus Black could really not afford to do that. He had a father that he needed to protect. He closed his eyes. Damn, but the library was dusty, too.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" he said hoarsely, keeping his stinging eyes closed. He couldn't let her see him cry.

"You really need to talk with someone about this," she said, her voice full of distress. "You are bottling everything up. You won't even let yourself cry." Curse her for being too perceptive at times.

"I just can't deal with it all right now, 'Mione," he finally admitted, listlessly scraping his spoon on the plate and staring out into the garden.

"There is just too much stuff going on," he added. "And it's just Remus and me here and he has been busy and … yeah, here is pretty dreadful to be at. But it's still much better than with the Dursleys," he finished quickly.

She sighed, clearly dissatisfied with him. Casting him sideways looks full of frustration. But there wasn't anything Harry Potter could do. Largely because as of today, there wasn't really such a person as Harry Potter anymore. And it was therefore time to introduce her to Corvus Black, offspring of infamous Death Eaters. He suppressed a shudder.

She was still looking at him reproachfully. So really, he couldn't be blamed if he got up and moved around the room restlessly, abandoning his half eaten cake on the window-seat. And if he ended up in front of the tapestry, absently poking at one of the burnt spots … well it was hanging there on the wall, wasn't it? Looking entirely innocent and blameless. He glared at it.

"Oh, leave the horrid thing alone. It hasn't done anything to you," Hermione chided. "And you can't vanish things by giving them the death glare either," she joked, pretending to shriek and duck out of his way when he whipped around and fixed the glare on her. He gave a short, strangled laugh and turned back to poke at Sirius' name. His face fell. And the pain he felt welling up wasn't fake, either.

If it had not been for Harry getting lured to the ministry, his godfather would not have gotten himself killed by Harry's … mother. Though of course she was really Corvus' mother. And how Sirius would have taken _that_ piece of news was anybody's best guess. He might have gone totally spare. Not only was Harry the son of his cousin Bellatrix, but also of Snape! His godfather had hated both of them with a passion. Would Sirius still have been able to accept him? Would he have been able to see past Harry's newly discovered parents? Or would he have disowned his godson along with them? Harry kept staring glumly at the name on the tapestry.

Unfortunately he would never know. But he wasn't very confident that Sirius would have been able to take this. He might have gone crazy. Might have totally flipped out. Because well, he had to admit to himself that Sirius had not been particularly stable, either. Really, he had to hope that both Bellatrix's and Sirius' … insanity and instability was due to both their extended stays in Azkaban. Because otherwise he would have to assume it ran in the Black line. And _that_ was not a good thought at all. He sighed unhappily.

Which finally lured Hermione over. He was starting to feel bad about that, too. He was playing her, manipulating her … when had he turned so very Slytherin? Well aside from the fact that the Hat had apparently been ever so right to want him there. He sighed some more and finally managed to pry his eyes away from Sirius' name. Instead he pretended to look the thing over listlessly. His eyes were carefully avoiding one particular spot, however.

Hermione was now actually carefully looking the tapestry over herself. "It's self updating, isn't it? I wonder what kind of spells are needed to manage that? And it all had to be woven into the initial design. Fascinating, really," she murmured breathlessly, her eyes glazing over with that look she normally reserved for particularly large and dusty volumes.

'Yes, 'Mione', he wanted to say. 'But kindly shift your gaze and notice that last little bit of self updating the tapestry did … less than a day ago, really. That little bit with the glamour over it to change the date. There. Just an inch to the right. No, don't get stuck on Malfoy, please. My cousin. Ugh.'

"The first time I saw Malfoy on here I nearly fainted," she commented, tracing the outline of his name. "To think that the prat is related to Sirius … it boggles the mind." 'Yes, it does. But kindly notice the _other_ Black related to Sirius, will you? The one who got him killed.'

"Hmm, what's that?" 'Finally!'

"Who is this? Harry? Have you ever heard of this … Corvus Black?" 'Yes, of course 'Mione, you are standing right next to him.'

"Who? What? Never heard of the guy. What about him?" he said, back to staring guiltily at Sirius' name and pretending that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. He didn't want to lie to her, not really. But it came so easily, so natural it was almost frightening.

"Ehm, Harry? I think we need to tell Remus about this …" Hermione said slowly. 'No we don't. He already knows.'

.

oOoOoOoOo

Shortly afterwards the party was in an uproar. And Harry felt simultaneously proud _and_ ashamed of himself. Proud for having pulled the manoeuvre off flawlessly … _Hermione_ had been the one to discover the name, and she had easily bought his act of ignorance. And ashamed, because it had been an act, and he had pulled it off so well. And kept doing so when they all gathered around the tapestry to exclaim and look puzzled, or affronted, or shocked and generally were trying to make sense of it and how it would affect things. And what to do about it.

He felt like rolling his eyes. Wanted to tell them: 'Don't worry it's fine, we've got it all sorted out. And we know who the guy is. He's standing right here. Right here, lying to you with every breath I pretend to be Harry Potter.' He caught Remus' eyes. The werewolf looked pitying. And Harry Potter just rolled his eyes at him, because really, there was nothing to be done. Nothing that would make it better. He was just going to have to deal with it. One day at a time.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: It finally came to my attention that I had overlooked some crucial bits of time-line regarding the summer of 1996; as I had assumed that certain events (mostly Dumbledore's curse and Snape's vow) had happened later in the year. Instead they would already have taken place before Harry's birthday. Therefore the point where this story diverged from canon would be the end of the fifth school-year, with the exception of course being the hidden real parentage of Harry/Corvus.

During the summer some events started to work out differently:

Harry did not go to the Weasleys after his mandatory stay with the Dursleys, but instead went to live at Grimmauld Place together with Remus. Thus he also celebrates his birthday there and not at the Burrow. Dumbledore had earlier informed him about Sirius' will. It was, however, still contested because Sirius' name had not been cleared, leaving the way free for Corvus to assume the inheritance later.

Also frankly, I have never liked the Deathly Hallows. Therefore I had already decided, when I started writing this story, that I wanted to leave them out. Which means the headmaster was not tempted into stupidly putting on a cursed ring. And therefore he was not dying. Which also means that Severus Snape really didn't want to make the unbreakable vow to kill him, because it's one thing to put a dying man out of his misery, and another to kill him when he is perfectly healthy.

And so I assume he just weaselled out of making the vow, what with him being the head of Slytherin and supposedly quite cunning and all. If he could handle Voldemort himself, then he should really have been able to outmaneuver one distressed mother and her insane sister. Instead he simply ended up promising Narcissa that he would try and protect Draco to the best of his abilities. And there may well be another confrontation with Narcissa and Bellatrix about the matter … later.

Also Ollivander wasn't abducted because of the Elder Wand, but simply because Voldemort wanted a different one made to avoid the _priori incantatem_. And depriving the wizarding world of their most important wand-maker would certainly be an added bonus.

The reason I had to explain all this is simple: since I had assumed the thing with the ring and the vow would happen later, I could have worked it into the story directly. I already had such a lovely confrontation between Severus, Narcissa and Bellatrix all written up. Instead I now had to work out why that happened differently beforehand, which feels a bit like cheating. And oh dear, the 'thing with the ring and the vow' sounds like I'm talking about a wedding!

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks to anybody who left a review. :)

TheSapphireGoddess: Harry is currently struggling badly with what happened to him … and well it's not even been a day. He really hasn't had any time at all to deal with things yet, and he has just had a nasty shock. It's no wonder he feels unbalanced. So if the story feels a bit depressing at this point, then I clearly have done my job! However, Corvus will be quite a bit more Slytherin than the canon version of Harry. Ravenclaw wouldn't really suit him at all, because at this point in life his main priority is survival, not studying for the enjoyment of learning.

adenoide: Which is of course probably the reason Mrs. Rowling introduced the Elder Wand. However, there are other ways to solve that particular problem. You'll just have to be patient and let me tell the story my way. ;)


	8. Plants and Prejudice

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

And then there were none. No more guests. They had all gone home after dinner, which Mrs. Weasley had put together out of pasta baked over with cheese, and a nice summer salad to go with it. Everybody had pitched in to help, with the exception of the twins who had been firmly shooed out by their mother, who obviously knew them too well. Meanwhile the talk had still been full of speculations about the mysterious Corvus Black, son of Bellatrix.

Somehow Harry had managed to make appropriate noises and appear involved in the discussion. And not give himself away by wincing or showing his dismay openly whenever Corvus got reviled simply for having Bellatrix as a mother.

Unfortunately, everyone clearly assumed he'd be evil and Dark, just like his mother. Even hints dropped by Remus that this might not be the case, and that maybe he knew something they all didn't, couldn't deter them from having an immediate bad opinion about the unknown Corvus.

It made Harry feel quite depressed. Because while he didn't have to join the chorus of ugly assumptions, he also couldn't defend himself against them. Couldn't tell them the poor guy was entirely innocent, and most definitely _not_ a junior Death Eater. And the one person least likely to ever, like _really_ ever, join Voldemort.

The worst had been Ron, of course. Which he'd kind of expected. Because if his friend was good at something, it was jumping to conclusions. He'd probably win contests in the discipline if there ever were any. As for speaking without engaging his brain first … Ron was also excellent at shooting his mouth off. And it was a shame, because he did have a good brain. If he bothered to engage it. Admittedly, his friend had gotten better over the years. No doubt partly because of Hermione's influence. But Ron still had a lot of growing up to do. Harry knew all that. Yet it had still hurt when his best friend had sprouted off nasty things about Corvus, just because of who his mother was.

But all he could do had been to look distressed, because fortunately no-one could tell _why_ he looked so upset.

The arrival of Mr. Weasley for dinner had not helped either. Not only did the man join the chorus straight away, he also brought the disconcerting information that Karkaroff, the old headmaster of Durmstrang, had been found dead. Which unfortunately reminded Harry of how Voldemort dealt with traitors. And when you had such a traitor for a father … you really didn't want to be reminded of that, no.

The one good thing was that Remus had been there to take control of the situation. The former teacher had made a convincing show of concern regarding the danger of Voldemort learning about Corvus. Because of that, everybody had grudgingly agreed to take a vow not to speak of the matter before they received Dumbledore's permission. Harry had felt much better afterwards. And nobody had noticed him not taking that vow. Sometimes they were really an unobservant bunch.

Altogether it had been a stressful end for his birthday party. But at least it was done now. Over. Accomplished.

And while he could have done without learning about the level of prejudice they were capable of, in a way it was also good to know about it. Because the knowledge would help when they inevitably had to meet Corvus. Whoever Corvus was going to be at that point, Harry or 'Dora, would really have to turn up the charm. And the sincerity. And leave no doubt that he wasn't, nor would ever be, on Voldemort's side. Because this lot was unfortunately way too prejudiced and judgemental to believe in his innocence, unless it was layered on with a trowel. Which was a depressing thought. Especially when he now considered their behaviour to be entirely Gryffindor, and just couldn't include himself in it.

.

oOoOoOoOo

When they'd finally left, Harry had quickly gone to change into his oldest things, and then collected the package from Neville. There was still an hour or two of daylight left, enough to put the seedlings into the ground. He also took the toy snitch with him, setting it free into the still warm evening air. The joyful, happy twittering sounds it made were a lovely contrast to the ugly words he had listened to earlier.

Still standing in the doorway, he surveyed his derelict realm. Overgrown, untrimmed bushes of lilac and jasmine, beautiful old roses in dire need of pruning, a very small stretch of lawn full of moss. Flowerbeds full of weeds strangling each other. One side had once clearly been dedicated to kitchen and medical herbs, and that was where he planned to put Neville's seedlings.

He took a few deep breaths, enjoying the peaceful air of the small, neglected courtyard garden and the sweet perfume of the blooming roses. With the snitch whizzing dizzily about over his head, Harry started in on the old herbal bed. And he was freely using magic. Doing the dirt work the hard way was something he didn't mind normally, but tonight he just didn't have the time. And so what if he attracted a few gnomes? Evicting them again would give him something to take his frustration out on. And since the place was unplottable and under Fidelius, he could use all the magic he wanted.

Which made him suddenly wonder about what went on in some of these old mansions. Those kind of protections would really allow people to get away with murder or worse. No, the wizarding society was inherently not nice. Because there was way too much temptation, even without someone like Voldemort. And it was no wonder Dark Lords kept popping up like bad apples ever so often. In a society which lived under so much secrecy, it was not surprising that a lot of those secrets turned out to be … nasty. Like things living under rocks. He shuddered and concentrated back on the work he was doing.

Well, the bed was prepared, and he rather thought he'd done a good job of it. The earth had been properly loosened up, and excessive rain would be drained off. He'd have to get some fertiliser, though. This place likely hadn't gotten any for ages, but for now it would do. He was busy with planting the first seedlings when he heard movement at the door. He looked up to meet his father's dark gaze.

"Good evening," Snape said calmly as he stepped out into the garden, taking it in with a sweeping glance.

"Good evening," Harry replied, managing to squash the 'sir' in time.

As the older man came closer, the snitch darted over to investigate this new target. Snape gave it a dubious look as it twittered at him before moving back to Harry.

"Ehm. Present from Ginny," Harry informed him. "I rather like it."

"You would," his father commented dryly. "And let me congratulate you on your birthday as well."

"Thank you." Another 'sir' successfully captured before it could slip in.

"I see you are also putting Longbottom's present to good use."

"Well, it would be a shame to let them die. And I've never minded garden work. Unless I had to do it right in the middle of the day when it was really hot," he amended.

"Your aunt made you do that?"

Harry shrugged and went back to planting. "Her garden was more important to her than her 'nephew'. I rather like it how I turned out not to be related to her after all. Or Dudley," he added, grimacing. "When it comes to deciding between being related to Bellatrix and Aunt Petunia, it's really a bit of a toss-up."

"Surely a Muggle could never be as bad as someone like Bellatrix?"

Harry twisted his head around to look back at the other man and gave him a cool stare. "She can be when you are a defenceless small child and entirely at her mercy. And there are a lot more ways of tormenting someone than using nasty spells."

Snape actually looked surprised at that thought. His eyes were so focused on Harry that he even flinched when the snitch suddenly darted over to him and twittered into his ear. He shot it an annoyed glare, which had of course no effect on the toy.

"Yeah well, it wasn't _that_ bad. I shouldn't make her out as worse than she was … only I wouldn't like to imagine Aunt Petunia if she'd been born like Bellatrix instead. You know, with magic, and being rich and temptations all round. Though maybe it was jealousy that ate at her," he mused. "So perhaps if she'd had it all, she'd have been nicer?"

Snape merely rewarded that thought with a raised eyebrow. In any case, such speculation was futile. Because it was impossible to say how someone would have turned out, had they lived differently. He still thought Petunia Dursley would have had a nasty streak a mile wide, but who really knew? And the seedlings were not planting themselves, so he got back to his task.

His … father meanwhile wandered over to the rose bushes, sniffing delicately at their bounty. The snitch had taken to moving lazily back and forth between them. Harry had to smile again at its behaviour. He really loved that thing. And that had finally been the last seedling. He got up again, dusting off his knees, and carefully watered the small plants. Afterwards he went over to the decrepit garden shed. He'd investigated it last week, and not only found a collection of rusty tools, but also a bolt of slightly decaying cheesecloth. But it would still do, so he got it out and spread some of it over his seedlings, securing it with a few pieces of rock.

He looked at his work contentedly, and then joined Snape who was still standing next to the rose bushes. Eyes closed, the man seemed to be enjoying the peaceful, scented summer air. It was almost night-time now, though the place got enough light from neighbouring street-lamps that it would never be entirely dark. And there was no chance of seeing the night sky clearly here in London anyway. He rather missed the spectacular view of the stars you could get in Hogwarts on the astronomy tower.

"What this place needs is a nice bench or two," Harry said, contemplating the garden. "One right here with the roses, and another one … over there." He pointed.

"And these roses would look lovely if they were trained onto some arch." He carefully lifted the offending stems of a delicate pink climbing rose that currently had nowhere to go.

Snape sighed. "Once again you manage to surprise me. I would not really have taken you for a gardener."

Harry gave him an amused look. "Well, I started early enough. And it's a real shame the way this place looks. It could be quite lovely."

He turned around slowly, taking it all in with a critical eye. "And it's all mine now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it will be. So if you want to garden … there are certainly worse ways of passing time."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "At least it's something I can fix up. Because the rest of the house ..." He realised that he felt strangely upset at not being able to do anything about it.

"You really need to get a proper house-elf."

"Hmm. Kreacher is hopeless, unfortunately. Hermione always insists that we just need to treat him nicer, but it's hard when he keeps sprouting such horrible things."

"Where is the wretched creature, anyway?"

"I think the headmaster sent him to work at Hogwarts after … Sirius died," Harry sighed. Everything today seemed to bring up bad memories or start up distressing chains of thought.

"Wasn't there some mad elf at Hogwarts who is positively in love with you?" Snape sounded amused, when normally he would have sneered. But normal just wasn't the same anymore.

"Dobby," Harry agreed, and shuddered. "He would drive me up the wall within the week, though. He is just _too_ enthusiastic. But I think he told me that Crouch's old elf Winky was also at Hogwarts and really not doing well without a master. Maybe we could swap her for Kreacher or something."

"You probably need to wait until you are properly Lord Black to bind an elf, but that might be quite a good idea. Nothing like a motivated house-elf for cleaning up a place."

"I guess so. Hogwarts is certainly well cared for. But I've never been in a private place with a house-elf. Because here hardly counts," he said, looking at the house with dismay. It really was in an awful state, despite Mrs. Weasley's best efforts.

"And Hermione can't ever learn of it. She would crucify me," he added with a sideways look at … his father. Whom he was actually having an easy conversation with, about harmless domestic details, everyday things like household maintenance and gardening. And who seemed to consider Harry's opinions and ideas as worth listening too.

"She is indeed quite infamous for her little campaign amongst the Hogwarts' house-elves. I believe most of them are terrified of her and will not go near her," Snape commented dryly, and there was actually an amused smile lurking on his lips.

Harry had to laugh at the comment, startling the snitch, which had taken up residence behind his ear. He tried to catch it, but it evaded his grasp easily. And his … father smirked at him. Which was bizarre. They couldn't really have gone from mutual animosity to such easy-going acceptance and understanding within a day?

Then again, the animosity had belonged to Harry Potter. Corvus Black had no real reason not to get along with his father. He wondered if thinking of himself as two different people was a sign of schizophrenia. But those two were rather different already. Even if they were both him. And just bearing a different face and name, and having different parents, shouldn't make such a big difference. Only somehow it did. Then again, their improved relationship was largely due to the vastly changed way Snape now treated him.

Speaking of face, though ...

"By the way, could you take this off me again," he asked … his father, gesturing at his own face.

Because it was high time he became Corvus for real. Things had been set in motion today, and the sooner he got used to being … who he was, the better. And that really involved not looking like Harry Potter anymore.

"Certainly," Snape agreed easily, though he gave Harry … Corvus a measuring look.

Always the Slytherin. Calculating what things meant. Trying to work out what people were thinking, and planning ahead. But wasn't that rather better than jumping to false conclusions and letting your prejudices colour expectations, like all the Gryffindors had done earlier?

.

oOoOoOoOo

So now he was back to looking like Corvus again. Like … himself. They were still out in the garden together, seated on a couple of chairs Snape had summoned from the house. A softly glowing globe of conjured light was suspended above them. And Harry … Corvus was watching Hedwig play chase with the toy-snitch. He now felt better about failing to catch it earlier, when even the owl couldn't manage it. It was all quite restful, with the beguiling smell of the roses, the chirping of crickets and the muted sounds of London's night traffic drifting over the tall walls. And the white owl, silently winging after a faintly glowing golden point of light. They'd been talking quietly for a while now. Him … and his father. The world had truly turned upside down.

"So we go shopping for clothes tomorrow?" Harry asked with some dismay.

"The sooner we get started, the better. We do not have terribly much time left before school starts again, and unfortunately there is a lot we need to accomplish," his father stated with a faint frown.

"After we come back from shopping, I will try and run a test with you for an alternative way of teaching you Occlumency," Snape continued, which made Harry … Corvus feel rather apprehensive. He wondered if he would ever be able to hear the word without remembering their gruelling lessons of last year.

"All right," he agreed, trying to hide his unease.

The other wizard gave him yet another calculating look. Corvus was starting to get used to these.

"I had thought that I would have a hard time teaching you to stop showing your thoughts and feelings quite so much in your expression and body language. But you seem to do much better at it than I had assumed," he conceded.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "It's just when I lose my temper. Then I really have trouble with it. And I'm sorry, but being around you just always made me blow up like crazy. So I doubt you've ever seen much of my other sides."

Snape sighed, looking apologetic. Again. That was another thing Harry still had trouble wrapping his head around. Snape. Apologizing. To him. But maybe Corvus could graciously accept those apologies, and easily forgive the man, because he was an all new person, after all.

"How are you at behaving differently though? I dare say I can help by not getting you to lose your temper around me, but that is not the only challenge here."

"I honestly don't know. I can't really know until I try it," Harry admitted. "But I should be able to, at least I think so. I mean, you'd probably not have recognised me the way I had to behave around the Dursleys. Acting arrogant can't be that much harder than acting meek and obedient. And I don't think that being openly distrustful will be difficult for me at all."

He grimaced. After all he really didn't trust people much. He'd just have to stop hiding the fact.

"And I certainly managed today," he finished, remembering the horrible dinner.

"What happened?"

"Aside from everyone thinking that Corvus would be a horrible person and a Death Eater just like his mother? And expecting the worst of him, and making nasty assumptions about what he would be like all during dinner? I really don't know how I managed not to give myself away," he concluded with another grimace.

"I fear you have finally encountered the prejudice and bias of Gryffindor from the other side. And you will have to get used to it, if you are still determined to join the snakes."

"Actually that's not true. I've been on the receiving end of that bias plenty before, you know," he pointed out, remembering only too well the times his house had reacted badly to him. Harry Potter's house, he reminded himself. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that Corvus Black really was no Gryffindor.

But Corvus could just refuse to let it touch him. Corvus could be whatever he liked, really. What he decided to be. So what if he couldn't change the expectations and prejudices that came with being Corvus Black, Death Eater spawn. But he could damn well decide himself how he was going to react to those expectations. And if he didn't want to let it hurt him, if it meant nothing, because he knew it wasn't true, or fair, and in no way valid, then he could.

He just had to set the pattern. And then keep reinforcing it.

And Corvus would be calm, and reserved, and distrustful, and yes, damn well arrogant. He wouldn't give a damn about who his parents were, either, because really, who cared? He was himself, and it didn't matter who had sired him. Corvus Black hadn't been raised by his parents. Had not even known them until now. So why should he care about them? Of course, there was the tiny complication that Harry Potter _had_ known them, and had decided opinions and bad reactions to them. But Harry Potter didn't exist anymore. His reactions didn't matter, unless he allowed them to. Damn it, but he was starting to really feel schizophrenic now.

Because he was also starting to care about having a father. Not so much about the father himself, but about the _having_. About no longer being all adrift and alone, without someone to turn to. It certainly didn't hurt that said father was now actually listening, and seemed to quite value him. Which was … weird.

Only Corvus wasn't going to be able to admit to that father in the near future. Would have to pretend he didn't know who his father was, in fact. Which meant it would be quite important that Snape was his head of house instead. Because that way he'd at least be a kind of surrogate parental figure. Corvus Black would be able to interact in a positive way with the head of Slytherin … provided he was one of the snakes himself.

He sighed. No longer being an orphan was certainly turning out to be … complicated.

"What are you thinking about?"

How the heck did one explain thoughts like these to the one they were about?

"Mostly … about how different Harry and Corvus already seem to be. Which is making me feel a bit schizophrenic."

He looked directly into his father's dark eyes. "And that I suppose it's really up to me to decide what Corvus will be like. How he's going to react to things. And that somehow he's starting to like having a father around, which is very strange seeing as it's _you_."

Perhaps not the most polite way of phrasing it, but Snape seemed to find it amusing anyway, judging from his quiet chuckle.

"I mean, I'm starting to feel _comfortable_ around you!"

"Oh, the horror," his father deadpanned.

And overhead Hedwig gave a call of triumph as her talons finally closed around the little golden snitch.

.

oOoOoOoOo

A while later Harry was staring at his reflection. Only it was Corvus looking back at him.

And it was Corvus' curls he was brushing out, and tying back because waking up once with his hair in a tangled mess was enough. Dark eyes staring back at him. They should have been green. He blinked long, black lashes, arched a dark eyebrow. There was definitely a resemblance to Sirius. All things considered, he looked very much a Black, with apparently few traces of his … father in him. Mostly the man seemed to have contributed to making Corvus' coloration even darker. He should probably be grateful for that.

Although … he lifted his hands to form a frame around his eyes. It looked like those were actually from his father after all. Though that wasn't necessarily such a bad thing. Those dark eyes that could really bore into people were kind of Snape's best feature.

He sighed. Just another way his world had reversed itself then. Because he'd always looked just like James, with Lily's eyes. Now it seemed he looked just like his mother, with his father's eyes thrown in. Bizarre.

And it hadn't even been a full day yet. Yesterday at this time he'd been in the sitting room, waiting for midnight to come. He'd fallen asleep, and experienced a nightmare that turned out to be reality. Which was quite strange, too. He'd almost forgotten about the dream. In the shock of last night's discovery, it had totally slipped his mind. Which meant he hadn't told the others about it, either. But should he still tell them about it now?

Harry frowned, and watched Corvus' reflection frown back at him. Yes, he really needed to spend a lot of time in front of mirrors in the near future. At least until he'd stopped wondering who the stranger looking back at him was.

His mind returned to the matter of the dream, however. Had it been prophetic? Or at least some kind of true-dreaming? Because he'd dreamt about it just as it was happening, really. So it might have been caused by the charm breaking up, or maybe been a weird echo from his connection to the tapestry? Because there had to be some link between that piece of spell-work and the Black family. Which was now very much his family. At least on one side. The other side … well, he really didn't know much about Snape's background.

For all that he still couldn't get his mind around _Bellatrix_ as his mother, it had been strangely easy to accept himself as a member of the Black family. It was as if something had clicked in him the moment he'd learned of it. It had felt … strangely right. Real. Perhaps it was because of Sirius? He'd wanted his godfather as family, after all. Though that didn't feel like the right answer, somehow.

He wondered if it had something to do with magic. He was apparently now the Head of House, or as good as. So maybe the very house itself, and the magics of the family, were welcoming him? Because he felt … different about the house. Before it had been merely gloomy and depressing. Now the darkness felt oddly welcoming, and the bad condition of the house had earlier actually distressed him.

Could this also be a reason for why things were already feeling so different? And why he'd felt so strangely comfortable around Snape earlier? Because the house itself had accepted him, and was somehow making him feel better? The atmosphere in the garden had certainly been … relaxing. Of course it had been a rare beautiful summer evening, too. But something _had_ changed. And magic could well be contributing to making it easier for him to accept all this. Because it really should have been much harder.

.

Yes, the initial discovery had given him a bad shock. But finding out that Snape, of all people, was his father had actually not upset him all that much. Of course it was helpful that the man had turned out to be quite willing to start fresh, and was treating Harry all differently. But this strangely easy acceptance that had developed between them in less than a day … it felt unreal somehow. Shouldn't be possible. And yet he could hardly complain about it.

Because continuing their feud under these changed circumstances would just be stupid. He needed the other man's support, no matter how he felt about him. And maybe what he'd always hated about his teacher had never been the man himself, but the way he treated Harry. He watched Corvus' reflection crunch up his brow in thought. In truth, if Snape had only treated him like everyone else, would he have particularly disliked the teacher? He thought not. It was constantly being singled out for insult and ridicule, and the unfair treatments that had upset him.

And of course the insults against … James. Just like his father, indeed. What irony _that_ had turned out to be.

But maybe that was another reason he'd come to accept Snape so readily? Because the Potters had been reduced from being his parents into being merely … foster-parents. Tarnished. But there really was no way around it. He just hadn't known them. It was impossible to cling to them as parents. Because there was nothing to cling to. No fond memories. There were just some pictures, and a few stories. And not all of these were even good stories, at that. No, thanks to what he'd learned in Snape's Pensieve, the Potters had become tarnished even before he'd discovered that they hadn't actually been his parents. Mostly what connected him to them now were feelings of guilt. And that certainly wasn't a good basis for anything.

He regarded his reflection darkly. All this was really messed up. _He_ was really messed up.

And once again his mind was rambling on, slipping from one topic to the next. Clear your mind, indeed. Hopefully Snape really had a different approach that could work, because he'd never been able to stop his wandering thoughts. And tonight 'clearing' his mind would be quite impossible. Even … his father seemed to have realised that, since he'd handed Harry a vial of Dreamless Sleep before he left. Yes, he needed the man. Because when he was actually being supportive, he was rather useful to have around. And quite pleasant company, really. How shocking.

Ah well. Brush teeth, wash face, get into bed, down potion. Hopefully get some good sleep, which he was going to need. Tomorrow promised to be a long day for Corvus Black.

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oOoOoOoOo


	9. Dressed to the nines

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just take them shopping.

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oOoOoOoOo

Corvus Black woke up early the next morning, feeling rather well rested. Thanks to the potion, no dreams had haunted his sleep for once. Unfortunately he couldn't take it very often. He'd have loved too, but even he knew that denying the brain the possibility of dreaming was not a good idea in the long run. If only most of his dreams weren't nightmares.

It was too early to get up, though. So he snuggled back into the blankets. But his mind was wide awake now, and the endless worrying thoughts had started again.

Becoming a different person in name and appearance was likely to bring many big changes in his life, but some things would stay just the same. The nightmares, for one. And for all that he'd now no longer be Harry Potter … it wouldn't stop him from having Harry Potter's dreams and nightmares. His endlessly percolating thoughts. His memories. His knowledge. His experiences. In fact … all those things which had really made him into who he _was._

And the things he would lose were mostly those that you _have_ … like friends, a name, an appearance, the circumstances of living. But he wasn't his friends. He wasn't his name, or his appearance, or the circumstances of his life. He wasn't his views, either. Views could change quite easily, all it took was someone persuasive enough to convince you of new ones. Or have a big shock change them for you. No, views and assumptions didn't define who a person was.

Everything that had made him into … himself would still be there. The name was a mere label. And his past formative influences didn't so much belong to Harry Potter, as to … him. Whoever that was. Exactly like Remus had said … it did not matter. Not for this. He was still himself.

He was himself. Becoming Corvus simply changed the outside. The circumstances. How others saw him. Who he associated with. As well as some of his views, and along with that his self-perception. But just because he saw himself differently now, didn't mean he actually _was_ different. Yesterday he'd wondered if he was becoming schizophrenic. But really, there was no difference between the two. They were both him. He was both. And neither. Because in the end, he was … himself. Himself with two masks, one broken and one not yet formed.

It was only the mask that Harry Potter used to wear which was shattered and discarded thanks to his discovery and the decision he'd made. But the mask was not _him_. The mask was simply what others saw of him, and how he reacted to them. It was all about perception. And since he'd allowed too many others to influence it, not even close to a true reflection of who he really was. There had been too much falsehood, and the shocking discovery of his real background had finally made him see it for what it was.

Inside, Corvus Black was no different from Harry Potter. And this last day had not actually changed who he was, either.

Well, aside from make him more knowledgeable about himself. Less inclined to accept the views of others without question. Views which were too often prejudices. He'd have to be more critical in the future. Because for all that he hardly trusted anyone, he'd still allowed their opinions to affect him … way too much.

But just because you aren't very trusting, unfortunately doesn't mean you aren't still ruled by the desire to belong and to fit in. And that usually involved accepting the views and prejudices of the people you wanted to belong to. However, once you became aware of this … you could fight it. And he'd have to, if he wanted to survive in Slytherin. He needed to leave his old prejudices at the door, and try not to pick up new ones just to fit in.

Having had a good rest seemed to have brought him unexpected mental clarity this morning.

Or maybe there really was something to 'sleep on it'.

Today he would start the life of Corvus Black. But he'd also still be himself. He'd just have to find out who that really was. Because he couldn't trust his old self-perception anymore. As for the mask Corvus was going to wear … that would largely be up to him. The thought was rather liberating, all things considered.

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oOoOoOoOo

One thing that was certainly going to be quite different about Corvus Black would be his outward image. Which involved a new wardrobe. And they were going to acquire that today. He'd be going shopping with … his father. That was bound to be an … interesting experience, given who that father was. And also considering that aside from school-robes, he'd never really gone shopping for clothes before.

But first, he had to find something suitable for Corvus Black to wear. Because he suspected they'd be visiting some quite fancy shops. Corvus narrowed his eyes as he inspected Harry Potter's wardrobe. This was going to be a challenge. Given the state of the clothing he had to work with, Corvus Black was going to have to soldier through on sheer arrogance, he decided.

When he went down to breakfast, after a thorough shower, he wore his best school trousers with a white button down shirt that was reasonably presentable. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to compose himself. Corvus Black was ready to meet the world. And the world could go hang if it wasn't ready to meet him. Or something. He lifted his chin. And Corvus Black didn't have to feel or behave particularly bold, since he wasn't a Gryffindor. He certainly didn't feel brave this morning. Especially his stomach seemed, once again, positively like a Slytherin.

Fortunately it was only Remus in the kitchen so far. His teacher gave him a gentle smile and wished him a good morning. Offered him a cup of tea.

"Good morning," Harry … Corvus offered in return, settling down across from Remus.

A few sips from the hot, sweet tea helped to settle his stomach a bit. He contemplated taking some toast. He eyed the rest of the usual breakfast dishes doubtfully. There was even some cake left from yesterday, but the mere thought of the sweet taste made him nauseous. He ran a finger between his collar and his throat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"Hey, you'll do fine, Cub. Just remember that you are not alone in this," Remus said gently, giving Harry's arm a squeeze.

He munched on the toast, alternating bites with sips of tea. He couldn't help but fidget. And chased the crumbs around on his plate with a nervous finger.

"Harry," Remus said, getting his attention again.

You should try to eat something more," he admonished, frowning. "It's going to be a long day and you do not want to go and faint on us," he added with a wink. Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Please, don't remind me. I don't want to think about it yet," he complained, but took another slice of toast. Remus gave him a sympathetic look and returned to looking through a pile of books. Work for later, probably.

Harry … Corvus sighed. It was going to be a long day indeed. And he didn't understand why he was feeling so apprehensive about meeting … his father again this morning.

He was still nibbling on his second piece of toast when the door opened to admit Severus Snape. Harry looked up to meet his father's dark eyes.

And he knew quite suddenly why he'd been so worried. Because he'd unconsciously expected Snape to go back to his normal behaviour. All right, not _normal_. Not anymore. But his _old_ behaviour towards Harry. Only Harry was now Corvus. And apparently his … father really had no intention to return to his old ways, because the expression on his face was once again rather neutral. Fairly relaxed, in fact. With a tiny smile lurking in his eyes even.

He realised that he'd been holding his breath, and let it out of sheer relief. And Snape simply shook his head at him, and the slight smile that curved his lips was a mixture between rueful and amused.

So Harry just shrugged back. Apparently they could now communicate quite without words. He sneaked a look at Remus, but the werewolf still had his attention on the pile of books and hadn't noticed their interchange. Or at least he pretended not to have noticed anything, judging from the amused look he gave both of them when he looked up.

"What?" he asked artlessly, smiling softly. "And good morning to you, Severus."

"Good morning indeed," the dark-haired wizard replied, snagging a chair and sitting down casually next to Harry.

Which was strange all over again.

"Good morning," Harry remembered to say belatedly, and took a sip of his now cold tea to cover his confusion. The Snape he'd known for five years just didn't do _casual_. But this was a different version of his teacher. The 'I'm your father' version.

"Are you two ready then?"

"Just about," Remus replied, slipping a bookmark into one of his volumes before stacking it on a separate pile. "Give me a hand with clearing breakfast away and we can head out."

"Hmm, not quite yet," Snape said, giving Harry a considering look. "You'll do, but we need to put the glamours on your scars. Oh, and you get this," he added, taking out a jar and handing it to the teenager.

It turned out to be Muggle make-up. Harry … Corvus rolled his eyes, but got up without protest and headed for the bathroom to apply it to his scars. When he came back he was surprised to find both men look subtly different. They were still recognisable, but only if you knew who they were to begin with. They had also transfigured their robes into something that would pass without notice in the Muggle world. Harry noted idly that Snape didn't look half bad in his rather severe-cut but elegant suit.

"Just glamours," his father explained when Corvus shot him a questioning look. "And now one for your scars," he added, and both older wizards lifted their wands in preparation.

"I don't get a different look?" Harry asked curiously.

"We are merely going into Muggle London," Snape said offhandedly, with a slight shrug. "I do not really expect to run into anyone who could recognise us. So this is just an extra safety precaution. And it's easier to recognise someone you already know, than remember someone you have never met before, so you will be fine."

"Plus we are going shopping for your clothing, so it will be helpful if you actually look like yourself," he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. And that damn amused smile lurking in the corners of his mouth again.

Harry just rolled his eyes again and submitted to their spelling.

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oOoOoOoOo

A few minutes and a side-by-side apparition later the three of them were wandering down a fashionably shopping street in London. And Harry … Corvus was giving his father an appalled stare.

"You want me to wear a _what_?" he exclaimed, horrified.

"A corset. Corvus Black will wear a corset, at least at first," The older man explained evenly. "These are not just an item of female underwear, Corvus. They are also used to train correct posture. In your case it will also help you to enhance a certain … stiffness and give you a constant reminder to act differently."

Snape stopped for a moment and fixed him with one of his intense stares. "You will be surrounded by Slytherins, Corvus. Nothing about you should say Harry Potter. That includes how you hold yourself. You are also a Head of House. And Corvus Black did _not_ grow up with Muggles. He grew up with a scholar and Master of Defence who moved about a lot. He … _you_ grew up under unusual circumstances."

"You can refuse to tell anybody about those circumstances … but they need to be reflected in your behaviour nevertheless," he concluded firmly.

Harry nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I know. We talked about that. And I still think I can do it … just not to which extent," he admitted doubtfully.

"Hence the corset and new wardrobe. Both will do a lot of the work for you, and help remind you to act differently, too. When you wear your new clothing, you will _be_ Corvus Black, head of House Black. Slytherin. Enigma. Standoffish. Paranoid. Unwilling to trust those around you more than you have to. The last should not be too hard for you," Snape said, giving Harry one of his calculating looks.

Especially seeing as they will likely mostly be Slytherins," he added with an ironic smirk. "I suspect you will feel even less inclined to trust any of them than usual."

"Right," Harry agreed with an answering wry smile. "Any other horrors of dressmaking you want to inflict on me?"

The dark wizard gave him another of those long, measuring looks.

"Definitely no T-shirts and jeans for you," he smirked again as Harry groaned. "High collar shirts, proper trousers. As for colours, hmm …"he looked Corvus over critically.

"Probably anything dark or monochrome, for the image, really. With your looks you could wear almost any colour well," he admitted, as he started walking forward again. "But cheerful will not do, I fear. Aside from school robes we should leave off robes though," he added thoughtfully. "We do not want to enhance any similarity of yours to me if we can help it."

Harry … Corvus sighed as Remus held open the door to the first shop for the other two. It was going to be a long day.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Isn't this enough yet?" Harry asked, eyeing the several bags of clothing they were now toting about in dismay.

"One last shop," Snape said, distractedly grimacing at a very flashy haute couture creation in the shop window they were currently passing.

"This one does have a selection with a certain … flair, which should nicely fit the image of Corvus Black."

Harry … Corvus sighed and tried to loosen his stiff collar surreptitiously. It was getting rather hot, his back was killing him thanks to the constant posture the damn corset was forcing him into, and he had a headache.

"Oh, by the way … Corvus," Remus said after they had finally entered that last store.

"Yeah?"

"I fear we'll have to work a bit on how you speak, Cub," the werewolf said, sounding apologetic. "Your voice _has_ changed, but you still sound too much like the boy from Surrey."

"Oh, great, so now I'll have to learn how to talk, too?" Harry said sarcastically, starting to feel rebellious at last. And irritated. It wasn't such a big deal, but the small things were really starting to pile up, too.

Snape, who had been looking over the shop's selection and picking out items for Harry to try on, surprised him with a low chuckle.

"Finally, the return of the rebellious teenager," he said with a faint smirk. He didn't sound very disapproving, though.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really tired of this."

"You certainly are no fan of shopping, I can tell," Snape commented, holding up a shirt for closer inspection.

"And no, you do not need to learn how to talk. But your speech needs to be a bit different at least," he continued. "It does not do us much good if you manage to look and act totally differently and then give yourself away the first time you open your mouth," he pointed out.

Which wasn't unreasonable. Merely yet another thing added to an already very long list of things to do.

So Harry simply gave him a tired look. "Acting differently I can manage … but how do I stop myself from talking naturally?"

"Hmm. For starters try to simply speak more slowly," Snape suggested. "And use less contractions. It will make you sound slightly unnatural at first, but since you will be 'just back from Spain', people will expect your English to be a bit stiff. We can also point out some of the more obvious things about your pronunciation you should try to say differently," he added.

Harry just threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. He'd try to talk slower, even if it would make him sound like a twit. He looked at the clothes his father handed him doubtfully, but gathered them up and took himself into the change-room.

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oOoOoOoOo

Harry … no, Corvus eyed himself in the changing-room mirror. The dreaded corset was really more like a sleeveless vest, with lacing in the back that could be adjusted. Otherwise it hooked together in the front, which at least meant he could put it on without help. It felt stiff yet flexible, and while it _was_ constricting, it was not too badly so. He might even grow into thinking it supportive, though right now it just felt wrong. But it certainly forced him into posture, and reminded him constantly of its presence. And why it was there.

He sighed. At least no one would know he was wearing it.

He drew on the trousers, and had to admit that he liked the feel of the charcoal grey wool, enjoyed the way they actually fit. They were a bit on the long side, but then he was hopefully due to grow some more leg. He was still short compared to his year mates, after all. He took the white silk shirt of the hanger, delighting in the soft feel in his hands. Maybe there was something to be said for proper clothing. He also had to agree with … his father that this shop had a decidedly unusual flair.

As he buttoned up what seemed like an endless amount of small silver buttons he contemplated the elegant high collar, the beautifully flowing full sleeves. Together with his long, dark curls it was maybe a bit … girlish? Then again, what with the corset and all, his figure was way too flat to be considered girlish he concluded, striking a haughty pose to rival Malfoy. As the handsome, well dressed vision in the mirror gazed back with smouldering dark eyes, he couldn't stop himself from shivering. He desperately wished he didn't look quite so much like his demented mother.

He found his father and Remus waiting for him when he exited the changing-room. Snape's eyes were calculating as usual as they swept him from top to bottom, but there was a faint smile of approval on his face when they returned to meet Harry's … Corvus' eyes.

"Very nice," was all he said, before handing over the next set to try on. Harry accepted the clothes with another tired sigh. At least this was the last shop. He badly wanted to go home by now.

Remus, by contrast, seemed both a bit lost as well as proud as he eyed Harry … _Corvus. _

"You look quite different like that," he said quietly.

"But really good, too. Dashing even!" There was suddenly an unexpectedly wicked twinkle in his eyes. "I'm sure you shall be the subject of many a badly written love poem in the girl's dorms," he teased with a wink. His smile widened at the wince that escaped Harry … Corvus at _that_ horrible thought.

He fled. And tried on more clothes. And more clothes. He had to admit they were very nice clothes, too. They'd ended up buying way more than he felt comfortable with, but even he had to allow that he looked … good. Impressive even. He stared at himself in the last outfit, black trousers, another silk shirt in a beautiful dark green, with a black sleeveless vest over it, and of course once again way too many buttons …

But taken together with his dark curls, and those intense dark eyes of his father's that continued to startle him every time he looked at himself … he cut quite the figure. He couldn't deny it. But after wearing Dudley's cast-offs for so long, and striving for obscurity, it would take getting used to.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So you are her son," a familiar voice came from behind him as he was on his way to the sitting room.

Familiar and at the same time … not. Because it was highly unusual for that voice to sound polite. Instead of shrieking and screaming abuse.

Harry froze at hearing it. Though he should have expected it. Because he was no longer a filthy mudblood whose very presence defiled the house of Black. No, he was now the heir, soon to be head of House Black. And since he looked just like _darling_ Bellatrix, he was now apparently in Walburga Black's good graces.

The big question was how he ought to react to it. Play along with her to keep her sweet? Risk antagonizing her, and have her go back to spewing abuse? And did he even really have a choice? They could not risk her learning that Corvus had been Harry. She simply couldn't be trusted to keep it a secret. Yet she already knew damning evidence. Because she had seen Corvus here _now_, when he was still meant to be in Spain. Why, oh why, had no-one thought of the portraits?

There weren't any paintings with people in it in the library, the sitting room, or the kitchen where most of their talks had taken place. So his big secret and the details of their plotting were safe enough. But he'd moved about in the hallways, looking like Corvus. Who wasn't supposed to be here yet.

None of them had thought about the spies hanging on the walls, who might tattle. Especially in this house. And most particularly this one. Walburga Black, as unpleasant as they ever came. And apparently, either because of something she had managed to overhear, or because of those Black family magics he had guessed at yesterday, aware that he was a Black. And son of her darling nice Bellatrix. He stifled a groan.

"Well, are you dumb? Can you not answer, boy?" she snapped now, no longer sounding so polite. Impatient.

Why did a stupid portrait have to be impatient? It wasn't as if they had anything to do all day long but hang from the walls?

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you … surprised me," he finally replied, stalling for time and going for being polite.

"So you can talk," she sniffed. "And you have some manners, at least."

Arrogant as always. Maybe he could butter her up, and extract a promise from her not to talk about what she saw? It would be the Slytherin thing to do. His … father would no doubt appreciate that. Besides, there was really no Gryffindor way of dealing with this situation. Nowhere to charge in bravely. Of course he could always be prejudiced about her. He mentally shook his head. Where had _that_ thought come from?

So he gave her an insincere smile. Because she might be polite to Corvus Black now, but he had Harry Potter's memories of being insulted by her.

"Pardon me, but I don't think we have been introduced?" he tried. He ought to start reading that book from the Patil twins soon.

She drew herself up haughtily. "I am Walburga Black," she declared proudly. "Your mother Bellatrix is my nice."

"Ah. That would make you my … great-aunt then?"

"Indeed," she admitted, her expression softening.

"And you don't mind that, ehm," he blushed. "She wasn't married to my father?"

Walburga sniffed, but didn't look too put out. "Well, obviously it is rather scandalous. But you are still a Black, and at least this way you bear the family name. And I'm sure dear Bellatrix would never have consorted with bad blood," she said with full conviction.

Trust her to have her priorities straight, even if they were all twisted. And he distinctly remembered Snape mentioning a Muggle father yesterday … which by her standards would be very bad blood indeed. But what she didn't know about ...

Plus it was nice that for once someone's prejudices worked in his favour.

"But, let me look at you properly," she continued. "Hmm, not bad. Quite charming, really, just like your dear mother. You are her spitting image," she commented, obviously pleased.

Harry … Corvus, however, was hardly pleased with her remark. Because he wasn't very happy about looking like … his mother.

"So they tell me," he replied cautiously, not wanting to set her off. "I'm afraid I've never met her. That I can remember, at least," he amended quickly.

Corvus Black had truly never met his mother after his birth. So it was only half a lie. He refused to dwell on the fact that he must have spent months inside her womb. Sharing everything with her. Hearing her heartbeat every second of the day.

Or that he had vivid memories of her killing his godfather. And of chasing after her afterwards ...

"Never met her?" Walburga said in a shocked tone of voice. "Where have you lived to be ignorant of your own mother?"

"In Spain, ma'am. And my guardians never told me anything about my parents," he explained. Which, ironically, wasn't a lie at all. The Dursleys had done exactly that, after all.

"Spain, eh? Did you like it there?"

"Very much so, ma'am. But now I'm here, and they told me this is my house now," he added with a questioning look at her. Let her fall for that lure and tell him what she actually knew …

"So it is, so it is," she admitted, eyeing him critically. "Now that both my sons are dead it went to the distaff line," she sniffed and dabbed at her eye with a lacy handkerchief. "Oh, my poor Regulus, to die so young. And now Sirius, too. Though he was a filthy traitor to the family, consorting with mudblood scum," she spat, narrowing her eyes in fury and crushing the handkerchief as if she wanted to wring Sirius' neck instead.

Harry knew he could never manage to look sympathetic. It took all his willpower not to shout back at her. But he could do blank. Because Corvus Black hadn't known Sirius. So he could look confused, and politely blank. Because he needed to get her on his side, even if he hated it. And what had Remus said? Always ask your own questions? He needed to gain the initiative then, and not let her ramble on.

"Ma'am?" he interrupted her, trying to sound courteous. It stopped her rant, at least.

"May I ask you how you know about me, please?"

She looked at him as if he'd asked her why the sun rose in the East.

"Because you are a Black?" she said, and her expression was a mixture of taken-aback and affronted.

"But ma'am, I don't know anything about being a Black," he told her, with a hopefully convincing attempt at a winsome smile on his face.

It seemed to work, since her expression softened. "You poor boy," she said, dabbing at her eye with the lacy handkerchief again. "To not know about your own family. Criminal, that's what it is!"

Sensing another rant coming on he quickly interrupted her.

"Maybe you could tell me something about it, then?"

"Of course, dear. Let me start ..." and off she went.

He considered his options while she went on and on about House Black and its glorious past. There was no way he could force her or threaten her. She was a portrait, and so far any attempt to remove her from the wall or shut her up had failed. He was pretty sure someone had even tried to _incendio_ her, as there were scorch marks on the frame. Maybe it had been Sirius when he was stuck here with her. But that clearly hadn't worked. Stunning her did, as far as he knew, but that was only a short-term solution.

Then there was blackmail or bribes. But he had no idea what to bribe her with, and even less about blackmailing. So his best bet would be to try to trick her into a promise. And the old woman had her weak points. Such as pride and vanity. And if he could appeal to her curiosity at the same time, she might be quite willing.

So he listened to her, making appropriate noises to keep her going. Any time she started in on Sirius or one of the other family members she didn't approve of, he simply derailed her with another question. It turned out to be surprisingly easy to handle her. And the longer she talked, the more she warmed up to him.

Well, being listened to had worked on him as well. Surely she was even more lonely than him, stuck to the wall and with no-one willing to talk with her. Which was, of course, her own fault for being so foul-mouthed normally. Still, it was one point where he could sympathise with her.

But sympathy or not, he still needed her to give her promise not to tell about his presence.

"Ma'am?" he finally asked, wringing his hands together in a gesture of anxiety that was only half faked. The expression on his face was, though.

She stopped halfway through a convoluted tale about some distant cousin.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry, but I just remembered something," he said, planting an uncertain look on his face.

"What, dear?"

"I'm not sure I should talk about it, though. It's rather a secret," he hedged. Time to sink his hook.

"Why, I'm sure I can be trusted," she admonished him, looking mildly affronted. And also very curious.

"Well, ma'am, it's simply that it could be very dangerous for me if someone learned of it," he said hesitantly, letting some fear creep into his voice. Let's see if she'd take the bait …

"There are … people after me," he admitted in a whisper.

There were indeed.

"Who would dare threaten a member of my house?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. Which was promising, as she was now angry at whoever endangered a member of her family that she had come to like.

"I don't even know who they all are myself, ma'am."

Which was entirely true as well.

"But you see," he gave her a faked shy look. "Supposedly I'm not even here yet. I'm still officially in Spain. But they moved me earlier for my protection. My safety depends on no-one knowing that, though."

She blinked at him, looking a bit confused. Now to reel her in carefully ...

"And if someone learned that I was already here now, it could be a really big problem for me, ma'am," he finished, painting his face in a mixture of despairing and hopeful.

"You think … that I would tell on you?" she exclaimed, clearly affronted, finally realising where he was tending. "I would never in my life endanger the son of dear Bellatrix … and such a sweet boy you are," she said, her gaze softening again.

"Promise?" he said, now all hopeful.

She drew herself up. "Of course I promise, dear. I swear on my honour of being a Black that I will never tell anyone about your presence here, and that I will always do anything in my power to keep you safe."

"Oh, thank you," he said, and he certainly didn't have to fake the relief in his voice.

He also felt like a total cad at how he had caught that particular fish. He was really turning into a Slytherin here. Or at least giving his inner Slytherin a good airing out.

Guilt made him chat some more with her, and promise her to come back to talk more in the future. At least now that he had her promise he felt less tense. Still, their whole conversation was an experience he could have done without.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You look rather disturbed," Remus said, sounding concerned when Harry came into the room with a stormy expression and threw himself down on the couch. "Has anything happened? You were gone rather long. I was just about to come looking for you."

"Why, whatever makes you think that," he replied sarcastically. "All I did was have a _lovely_ conversation with dear Mrs. Black," he explained, closing his eyes and resting his aching head against the back of the couch.

The silence stretched out longer than he would have expected. He opened his eyes again to catch his father and Remus still looking at each other ruefully.

Snape sighed. "We completely forgot about the portraits, yes. I take it you managed her somehow? Since she isn't screaming murder right now?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I really buttered her up, which wasn't easy when she started praising Bellatrix and tearing into Sirius," he added, rolling his eyes.

He watched the other two share another look.

"I'm not totally hopeless at keeping my temper, you know?" he added, feeling a bit offended.

"Anyway, once I had her gushing all over me I got her curious by hinting about a secret and that I was in danger because of it, and voilà, one portrait eager to keep her mouth shut," he concluded, turning his eyes up to stare at the ceiling.

"What secret? I hope you didn't tell her about me, or worse, Harry Potter?" Snape asked, clearly alarmed by the idea.

"Of course not. But I'm not supposed to be _here_ yet, am I? And she'd already seen me," he scoffed. "So I told her I had people after me, and that I'd been moved here earlier in secret to protect me. When I hinted that I needed her silence to help with that, she all but fell over herself to promise to not tell anyone."

His father coughed delicately. And sounded contrite. "Once again you manage to surprise me," he admitted. "Pleasantly so, I should add. And it is good to know that you can think on your feet, and handle even that harridan. Even better, you tricked her by offering a secret she essentially already knew."

Harry rolled his eyes again, still feeling disturbed. Trying to manipulate Mrs. Black without her catching on had been stressful. And he still felt bad about the whole manipulation in the first place. The tension had certainly not helped with his headache either.

"I guess so," he admitted a bit grudgingly. "What about the rest of the portraits, though?"

"We could simply collect them and lock them up somewhere," Snape suggested after a moment of thought.

"We should have done that long ago. They are a security risk that is too easy to forget about," Remus admitted, shaking his head.

"Hopefully she is the only one stuck to the wall," Snape said sourly. "Otherwise this will turn into a nightmare."

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AN: This chapter gave me some trouble, as it refused to be wrestled into shape. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but going over it again and again isn't going to get it posted. So it will just have to be 'good enough'. And as usual, thanks for any reviews!


	10. The Cloud in Occlude

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just try to teach them Occlumency.

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"So what else is on the menu today?" Harry ... Corvus asked Snape when they returned from operation: 'get rid of the portraits'. It had been a success. They'd managed to get all of them off the walls, and then locked them into the room which had once belonged to Regulus Black. With as many locking and silencing charms as the two teachers could come up with on the door for good measure.

The only one they left was Phineas Nigellus, who hadn't been in his frame. Snape stared at it darkly and then told them to leave it alone for now. Harry gave him a surprised look at that, but his father just shook his head at him. So he refrained from asking. There likely would be a plan. He didn't need to know everything. He already had enough on his plate. Plenty to think about, too.

He'd also resigned himself to a lot of work. But while he understood the need for it, he still felt so raw, and so unsettled, he doubted he would be able to concentrate on anything at the moment. Endless thoughts and questions kept chasing themselves in his mind, and his earlier headache was not getting any better. The encounter with Mrs. Black hadn't helped, either.

He rubbed his scar distractedly, closing his eyes as pain stabbed through his head yet again. And sighed unhappily when his fingers came away covered in greasy make-up. He'd have to be more careful with doing that.

"Headache?" his father's voice made him into look back at the dark-eyed man.

"Ehm, yeah," he admitted. "It doesn't seem to want to quit."

He was also tired from all the shopping, and the upset about the portraits had exhausted him further. It was also fairly warm today, and the moisture in the air promised a summer storm later. The house felt suffocating.

Snape gave him a long, considering look. "I am sorry we have to keep pushing you so much," he said quietly. "But there just isn't enough time. I can give you something for that headache, though. Why don't you make yourself comfortable meanwhile?" he suggested, pointing at the couch in front of the unlit fireplace.

Harry certainly had no problem with that. Taking of his shoes and arranging the pillows took but a few moments. By the time the other wizard returned with a potion vial in his hand, he'd settled comfortably on the couch, relaxing his aching head against the fluffy softness.

"Here," Snape said, handing him the vial which Harry downed without hesitation, though he made a face at the taste.

He was a bit surprised when the older man pulled up a chair to sit next to him, and even more so when he felt his father's hands on his head. His eyes went up in surprise to meet the unreadable dark gaze.

"Relax," Snape commanded softly.

"Close your eyes," he added, as he started to gently massage Harry's head. Harry … Corvus sighed and tried to follow his father's orders. It actually was …. nice. The headache was finally obliging him by disappearing, and the gentle touch upon his scalp was unexpectedly comforting.

"Now, aside from learning how to, well, behave differently," Harry could have sworn there was a slight smirk in his father's voice. "The most urgent thing you need to pick up is Occlumency. Do not worry," he admonished, as Harry immediately tensed at the reminder. "We are trying a different approach this time. And Remus will be there to help, too."

"As far as I can determine, your main problem is that you constantly have so much on your mind, that you cannot stop your thoughts? And that you often have strong emotions which accompany those thoughts?"

Harry nodded, feeling despondent.

"Both of which would unfortunately make it quite hard for you to clear your mind successfully," Snape admitted with a sigh. "Especially with my former treatment of you thrown in, which no doubt stirred everything up even more."

Harry's … Corvus' heart gave an unexpected wrench at hearing the shame in … his father's voice. This was still so surreal. And yet … if someone offered to make this not have happened … he would decline. Because something in him badly wanted this. Even if it was very strange, and new, and he had no clue how to deal with most of it.

Once again his thoughts and emotions were starting to wander all over the place. And he really had no idea how to stop them.

"So we are going to start with relaxation exercises. I intend to guide you into a state where your thoughts eventually quiet down. And hopefully you can then link this experience to some strong image to use as a trigger or focus to return you to that state at will," Snape's voice explained quietly.

"And we will start right now."

Harry tensed up at that declaration.

"Relax. I am not going to do anything that could hurt you. Just concentrate on your breathing. Try to relax. Breathe in. Hold your breath for a couple of seconds. Let it out again," his father's voice was calm and smooth, washing over him like silk.

"Let the tension go. Breathe. Let your body relax. Yes, that's right," the voice sounded approving as Harry … Corvus tried to consciously relax his tense muscles.

"Breathe. Concentrate on that pattern, let the tension go. Breathe."

They continued like that for endless minutes. Harry followed the quiet directions his father gave him, feeling the tension slowly drain out of him until he felt like he was drifting on a peaceful cloud. He noted distantly that the endless thoughts seemed to have stilled as well.

"Now," Snape's suddenly commanding voice roused him slightly out of his trance-like state, but he felt too peaceful and sluggish to really react. "Remember this state. And try to find something you would strongly associate with it. Some image that comes to your mind …" the voice trailed off as Harry frowned slightly. What image could capture this feeling of boneless relaxation and floating? Thinking was rather hard at the moment.

Floating. What floated? Birds? Too active. Feathers were nice, but a bit too uncontrollable. Any strong wind would scatter them. Broomsticks might do, but there was too much movement and speed in the association. Clouds. Now clouds had … potential. Because clouds drifted, and were calm and peaceful.

Clouds were really quite handy. You could hide in them. Or hide _something_ in them. Like memories. And if you imagined them a bit denser, like pillows, you could smother an intruder with them. And even if they got torn apart, they could always reform. And if you flew into a cloud, it would blanket everything in white. Clouds. Occlude. There was actually a cloud hidden in the word. He felt absurdly pleased by that discovery.

"Look at me," he heard distantly, from that silky, soft voice which had been speaking to him. His eyelids seemed unwilling, and he was reluctant to do anything that might remove him from his current state. "Stay where you are, keep to that image, but look at me," the voice repeated.

He managed to open his eyes to a slit. And then he was not alone anymore. There was a soft touch on his mind. Compared to the harsh attacks he vaguely remembered, this touch was unobtrusive. The presence seemed content with observing him float. Yet he felt mildly disturbed and instinctively drew a cloud over himself that obscured him from the watchful presence. Everything was full of fluffy whiteness. Nothing could find him in here. And then his eyes fluttered close and the whiteness claimed him.

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oOoOoOoOo

When he became aware again, he was mildly disoriented. Everything was still so peaceful and relaxed, and surely this couldn't be right given everything that had happened? But worrying seemed too much of an effort, so he continued to drift in peace for long minutes. Gradually he became aware of quiet voices from the next room. Yet somehow he couldn't even muster the energy to be curious about what they were saying.

Finally the door opened and through slitted eyes he watched his father re-enter the room, followed closely by Remus Lupin.

"How are you feeling now?" Snape's voice was soft and undemanding.

"Ehm. Well? I think?" Thinking was way too much effort. So was keeping his eyes open.

"Do you think you can find that state again?" The silky smooth voice asked him.

"Hmm." Talking was an effort, too.

"Do you feel safe there?"

Of course he felt safe, hidden in the clouds.

"Hmm," he assented, nodding slightly.

"Open your eyes, please," the voice demanded of him, softly.

He managed to lever his eyelids open slightly to meet that dark, intense gaze. He imagined he heard a whispered '_Legilimens_' and then the presence in his mind was back. But this time it wasn't content with just watching him. He frowned in increasing displeasure as it started prodding at him, trying to drag him out of the clouds. Memories that had settled into quiescence were stirred up, and in mounting disquiet he watched them unfold before him.

No. He didn't want to be disturbed. He pushed back at the presence, wanting it gone, but it would not give. He smothered the memories in clouds, wanting them to be quiet again. The presence resisted, continuing to stir them up. He made the clouds firmer and pushed the presence away. But it refused to let go. So he wrapped it up in clouds, and then mentally shook them out forcefully like ridding a cloth of dust. And felt the presence finally fall away.

He heard a sigh. An intake of painful breath.

"Did he succeed?" this voice sounded hesitant. Remus, he thought.

"He threw me out, yes," the silky voice admitted. "Corvus, that was quite good. But now you need to come back out."

He didn't want to. Wanted to stay like this forever, without worries. Floating like a cloud. But hands were touching him now, briskly massaging his arms, his hands, his shoulders.

"Come on, come back up. Take deep breaths. Open your eyes," the voice insisted.

He was very reluctant. But the voice wouldn't leave him alone, and gradually the leaden weight of his body seemed to lighten, and his mind felt less sluggish. He tried to drag the feeling of peace up with him, though. Slowly his senses sharpened again.

"He must have been under quite deep," Remus remarked, sounding pleased.

"Hmm, I dare say so. He was quite responsive," Snape seemed approving as well, and Harry tracked his gaze on him, still feeling heavy and boneless. "Can you count back from ten to one, Corvus? Imagine yourself waking up as you do so."

It felt like too much effort, but as he counted it was as if a part of him rose up from some strange depth it had sunk to. He blinked his eyes repeatedly. His father's hands continued to massage Harry's arms. Everything was very peaceful. He blinked again. Drew a deep breath. And released it, having nothing to say with it. The dark eyes continued to look at him, and there was a smile in them. It drew him, that smile, he wanted to drink it up, to bathe in it. It seemed to ease some hurt in him that he hadn't even been aware of. He felt his own face smile back, dreamily. At peace.

"Well, that was rather more successful than I had hoped for on a first try," his father stated calmly.

He blinked once more. What had he done? He tilted his head in puzzlement. Snape seemed to understand the unspoken question.

"I tried to get you to relax, and you actually went into a very deep trance, Corvus," he explained. Harry blinked again. He had?

"You also found an image which should work quite well for defending your mind," his father continued. "And you managed to throw me out without using a wand." The man sounded almost … proud?

"Now we need you to do that while in a conscious state of mind, of course."

Of course. _That_ sounded less promising, Harry thought.

"Ehm," he finally found his voice. "How am I meant to do that?"

Now that he was fully awake again the bad feelings were slowly creeping back. That beautiful dreamlike state seemed increasingly far away.

"Remember your image. Picture it as strongly as you can. Let it be your anchor, your focus. Allow it to pull you back to the state of not thinking. Know that it is your mind, and you will always have the advantage there. You just need to realise it. Try it. Breathe. And keep that image in the front of your mind. But do not close your eyes this time," the calm voice instructed, as Harry's eyes started to drift shut again. It took an effort to keep them open instead.

So. Clouds. Those were fortunately really easy to imagine. All he needed to do was see himself surrounded by soft, fluffy whiteness. It brought back a sense of floating. Of safety and tranquillity. Because even the most storm-torn cloud was quite … serene? And with the calm, his thoughts also stilled. As he sunk deeper into it, there was nothing but clouds around him, and a pair of dark, intense eyes before him, boring into his.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

"_Legilimens_."

And the presence was back. The attack was nowhere near as strong as it had been in their useless lessons last year, but all the same he was helpless to stop the memories from being dragged out. He watched in dismay as Uncle Vernon shouted at him, advancing menacingly. Saw himself sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, with everyone whispering about him because they thought he'd cheated himself into the tournament. Saw Bellatrix cast a curse at Sirius, watched him start to fall …. no.

Not that one. That memory was now even more painful than before, because of _her_. He finally took hold of the clouds and shoved them in front of his memories. Blanketing everything in white. Pushed everything down. The presence continued to tug at his memories. But there were always more clouds. And he wrapped everything up in them, memories and presence alike. And the presence eventually gave up and went away when it couldn't find anything but white anymore.

Harry screwed his eyes shut and winced. The headache was back with a vengeance.

"Well," the voice sounded satisfied. He managed to lever one eyelid open to look at his father, squinting against the pain in his head. "That was not half bad. The headache is back?"

"Yeah," he croaked. He swallowed, trying to ease his dry throat.

"Better take this then," Snape advised, and handed Harry another vial which he fumbled open finally, downing it in one gulp. He accepted a glass of water from a solicitous Remus afterwards.

"You should not have any more of that today, but that was enough of this particular exercise for now, anyway."

"Will I always get a headache from it?" Harry asked finally, once his head stopped pounding.

"It will get easier," Snape assured him. "It is a lot like building up muscle."

Harry perked up at that.

"Unfortunately, it will probably be a while before you get to a strength where you will not have headaches anymore," his father added. " And I was not attacking particularly hard this time." Harry winced.

"Still, you _did_ manage to keep me from seeing anything more, and we can build this up gradually," his father continued. "Remus will help you with more relaxation and focus exercises before you go to sleep every night. But as you grow stronger, I will have to start attacking you without warning, too," he warned.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. But he nodded anyway to signal his understanding.

"But I am very pleased with your progress today," Snape told him, and that tiny smile was back in his father's eyes, warming him. "And most of all I am pleased and I must admit, surprised," the dark eyes were penetrating. "That you actually trusted me enough to go into such a deep trance for me. It made all the difference."

Harry … Corvus shrugged. It wasn't as if he'd done so consciously.

"Yes, I certainly did not expect that," Snape admitted, sounding a bit ashamed again. "I have not given you much reason for that trust in the past, I fear."

Harry looked at him, feeling conflicted. "You have been rather unfair," he pointed out. "I really could have done without the insults and that you constantly tried to put me down. And I don't want to think about last year's lessons," he added, grimacing.

Yet even just mentioning them did bring the memories back up, and the feelings that had gone with them. So, clouds. White fluffy clouds, isolating him from the distress. And those bad memories could get lost in there, too. He certainly didn't want them.

He blinked. Because it had actually worked. The clouds increasingly appeared like a stroke of genius. And they were very versatile, too.

"But I don't want to go back to how thing were then. It's like you are a totally different person now. One that I much prefer," he admitted, frankly meeting his father's dark gaze.

"Was that why you were apprehensive about meeting me earlier today?" Snape asked with a searching look in his eyes.

"Yes," Harry … Corvus allowed. "I keep thinking … fearing that you will revert. That all this will turn out to be just a dream."

He blinked again, surprised at the realisation. He _really_ didn't want to go back to before. And he was starting to actually _like_ the new Snape.

"And," he drew a deep breath, "I don't want to cling to the past," he finished, looking imploringly at his father. His father.

Who regarded him thoughtfully, and finally nodded. "Peace?" was all he said.

Harry closed his eyes. Drew another deep breath. Nodded.

"Peace," he agreed.

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oOoOoOoOo

"However," Severus cleared his throat after a moment. "While we are finished with this particular exercise for today …." he gave his son a suggestive look.

"... we obviously aren't finished with lessons, yes I get it," the boy muttered somewhat resentfully. "So what else do you have planned," he asked with a conciliatory gesture when Severus frowned at him in displeasure, obviously trying to stave off a scolding.

"Generally a lot of language lessons, I am afraid. You will need a working knowledge of Spanish, and preferable some more Latin, with your supposed upbringing."

The boy rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He did not have to, his body language said it all for him.

Severus gave him a serious look. He did not want to antagonize his son. However, serious explanations, as well as giving him reasons for _why_ something was expected of him, seemed to work amazingly well on the boy. What a shame he had not figured that out several years ago … but then he had thought the boy a hopeless brat, arrogant, disrespectful and unwilling to apply himself. Once again he really had only himself to blame.

But regret would not help now. He needed to look forward. And have the boy do the same. Fortunately that seemed to require remarkable little effort.

"Having some language skills will certainly not hurt you in the long run," he pointed out. "And Latin is a useful language to learn for any practising wizard. I have always felt it a shame it is not taught at Hogwarts any more."

"Along with foreign languages in general," Remus chimed in helpfully. "I ended up teaching myself a lot of languages when I travelled about on the continent. I have always regretted the lack of a solid education in that respect." The werewolf sighed.

"However, Remus came up with an idea that should help with this particular workload," Severus said, keeping his attention on the boy.

"We shall subject you to the torture of subconscious learning," he explained, and smirked at his son's look of puzzlement. "Which means you get a Muggle tape-recorder recite language lessons at you while you sleep, which we will enhance with a light learning charm."

"There are _learning_ charms?" The boy exclaimed. "How come we never get taught anything like that?"

"Because they would not do much good to pupils in a school where most of the knowledge requires _understanding_," Severus said scathingly, watching his son flinch at the tone and feeling uncomfortable at seeing the reaction. He softened his voice and continued: "These charms are only good for rote learning … but that means they are quite good for acquiring vocabulary and the kind of unconscious knowledge language requires. You will need to learn grammar the normal way, however."

The boy still looked slightly rebellious. So Severus cleared his throat and tried to explain further: " They can also cause severe headaches as well as disorientation, unless the subject is carefully monitored. So you can understand why we would not want students to mess about with such spells without supervision?"

The boy … Corvus nodded in acceptance after a moment. "All right, I get that. What else?"

"Additional lessons in Defence," Severus said. The teenager visibly perked up at that. "From Remus, Nymphadora and me. This will, however, be more than just practical defence work," he warned. "You need to acquire both a better understanding of spell theory and on why spells work the way they do …. and how they interact against each other."

"As you progress, you can also expect to find yourself ambushed," he added, and had to smile slightly at the mixed reaction his son gave to that. Clearly this idea excited the youth, while simultaneously filling him with some trepidation.

"But otherwise we will not bother with additional subjects, for now at least. As 'Corvus' was not educated at a school, it will be quite natural that your level in other classes will be somewhat … haphazardous. The only subject you must absolutely excel in is Defence. For the rest … simply do your best, and Remus will try to bring you up to the expected standard," Severus concluded, though the intense look he gave his son spoke volumes about the standards of excellence that would eventually be expected of him.

The boy seemed puzzled by something, however. He looked between Severus and Remus.

"I thought you weren't going to be at Hogwarts this year," he said, giving the werewolf a look that almost begged for a contradiction. And Severus had no right to feel slightly jealous. Especially not given how the boy … his son … had started to react to Severus himself.

"Not as a teacher, no," Remus said softly. "But we think it's a good idea for me to continue as 'Lord Black's tutor' until any lacks you have due to being 'home-schooled' are caught up. Frankly, you could easily afford such a tutor, and You-know-who is merely going to see it as Dumbledore's attempt to keep you under the Order's influence."

"Which will conveniently explain my continued difficulties to try to tempt you over to his side," Severus took over the explanation smoothly. "One of Albus' better ideas, I must admit."

The boy … Corvus looked between the two of them again and finally nodded.

"So you will see me quite a lot at Hogwarts. Though we will have to wait and see how your schedule works out before we can figure out the when and where, obviously," Remus said with a fond smile at the boy.

"Unfortunately, you will have to retake your O.W.L.s as Corvus," Severus told his son. Who certainly did not look happy with that prospect. "But for now the teachers will all let you into their advanced classes. Albus will make sure of that."

"We plan to have you meet the relevant teachers for an evaluation about a week before term starts," Remus took over once more. "So they have an idea how you will fit into their classes." The werewolf chuckled at the obvious defeat in the boy's posture.

"Don't worry, we will only work you until you drop," he added cheerfully. "Then we shall revive you and start all over!"

Remus was now laughing openly at the boy's look of horror. And reached out and gave him a hug. Severus felt another faint stab of jealousy at seeing his son accept it willingly. He cleared his throat.

"Time for some late lunch now."

The other two broke apart.

"After that you should rest a bit, then Remus will take over your tutoring for the rest of today. We will keep a flexible schedule," he tried to put reassurance into his voice. "To allow for your level of energy and concentration."

And his son looked at him with those dark eyes that so resembled Severus' own, and smiled in appreciation.

Truly, what had he ever done to deserve this gift?

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oOoOoOoOo

"You realise how responsive he is to your words and even the tiniest hint of approval from you?" Remus asked him once Harry's steps could clearly be heard upstairs. The wolf waved his wand over the table and watched their lunch dishes move themselves over to the sink.

Severus nodded and sighed. "Yes. I must confess it makes me quite ashamed after the way I used to treat him. Though if it's what gets him to do his utmost now, I will not hesitate to use it. But tiny hints they will remain," he warned the other wizard. "I will never be a demonstrative person."

"Truth be told, I fear he would be overwhelmed if you were. I have often noticed how he reacts to Molly's mothering. Pleased on the one hand, and distinctly … uncomfortable on the other."

"Yes, he does not seem to handle signs of affection or even praise well. Then again, given that I will not be able to show him much, it is helpful that he does not expect much," Severus admitted with a shake of his head. "And to think I considered him arrogant and attention-seeking …"

"Do you wish things could have worked out differently?" Remus asked with obvious curiosity.

Severus shrugged. "Of course. But the circumstances being what they were … there were not really a lot of other options. The one thing I truly regret now is that I took my hate for James Potter out on … my own son."

He looked away in discomfort, seemingly fascinated by a crack in the flagstones.

"You did not know."

"Still, I should not have done it. Even if the boy _had_ been his son, it was uncalled for."

"What is done is done. All you can do now is do your best for him."

"And so I shall," the words were delivered with the quiet intensity of an oath.

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AN: After I discovered the cloud in occlude, and noted the similarity of the words, I got curious and looked them up in my Dictionary of English Etymology. (Yes, I actually possess something like that. It has about a thousand pages, too.) Sadly, there is no real connection, as cloud goes back to OE. Clūd, and occlude to the Latin word occlūdere formed from oc + claudere (close). Sniff. (which might go back to either MSw. snypta, or MDa. snyfte). What amazingly useless bits of information one can find … (read as: I would have made a lousy Ravenclaw.)

I had intended for this chapter to cover the rest of the day. However, it turned out too long in the end, so I split it up into two updates. I hope I'm not progressing too slowly, but this is not a very action-filled story. There is just too much introspection going on for that. And you know, I think the characters simply need to come to grips with the new situation before they can move on and actually _do_ stuff.

In case anyone wonders why Severus keeps thinking of Harry as 'the boy' – he has never called him Harry, thinking of him as Potter now feels wrong, and he isn't used to Corvus yet. Though he will call him that when talking to Harry directly. I know that the 'Harry … Corvus' will seem odd since you don't normally think of yourself by your name in first person. But it's the best I could come up with to show Harry's struggle with thinking of himself as Corvus. And Harry will for now stick to thinking of Severus as Snape, or his … father until he becomes more comfortable with him. He will also simply avoid addressing him directly by any name or title.

And thanks again for the reviews, it is very heartening when people liked something that I wasn't entirely happy about myself … :)

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	11. Runes

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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When Harry came back downstairs after a short but refreshing nap, he found Remus waiting for him in the sitting room, with a stack of books piled on the table next to the teacher. He was sipping from a steaming cup of tea which he set down when Harry entered the room, gesturing for him to take a seat and serve himself from the obviously freshly brewed teapot.

"Sleep well?" the teacher asked with a smile. Harry … Corvus nodded and concentrated on stirring milk and sugar into his cup of tea. He blew cautiously over the surface, watching the steam shiver and twist, before taking a careful sip. It was still too hot to drink, so he put it back down on the table and turned to face his teacher.

"So what are we doing now?" he asked, eyeing the pile of books. Remus followed his eyes and nodded.

"These here are the basic defence texts you _should_ have learned from the last five years, plus a few other useful books. We need to go over them to figure out which bits you have managed to pick up despite the horrible lack of teaching you had. Thanks to that defence club you ran, your grasp of the subject appears excellent, but well, you didn't exactly have many teachers who actually followed the syllabus, so there will likely be gaps," Remus stated, frowning.

Harry … Corvus rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, if Dumbledore had held a contest of 'teacher most likely to not actually teach anything useful while trying to harm Harry Potter' he'd have had some real winners there. Except you, of course," he added with an apologetic smile.

The werewolf laughed, and slapped his thigh. "I sure hope so. Though even I ended up being a threat to you," he concluded, his face darkening with the memory.

Harry just waved his hands and picked his cup up again. It was drinkable by now, so he had something to occupy himself with while Remus sorted himself out.

"Anyway, not only is it important for you to learn to defend yourself, since you have been a target ever since you started school, but Corvus Black supposedly lived with an expert in Defence. So he really needs to be even more top-notch in that area than even Harry Potter is," Remus winked at Harry, his good humour obviously restored.

"So we are going to go over all the spell-work you should know by now, to see if there is anything that you missed or that needs correction … or simply more practise."

"Sounds like fun," Harry grinned at his companion.

"Hmm, but once you have tired yourself out, we shall continue with you trying to figure out all the ways the spells could be useful in an actual dangerous situation," Remus added, with a smirk at seeing Harry wrinkle his nose and crunch up his brow.

"Okay, that's less fun," Harry … Corvus admitted.

"Well, the least fun will be working on the spell theory behind some of them, but we'll leave that for later. Right now," the teacher said as he opened the first book. "We shall start with this list of first year spells." And he grinned wickedly as Harry groaned.

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oOoOoOoOo

By the time dinner came around, Harry felt rather tired. They had managed to work halfway through the second year material, but were slowing down now as the material became more complex and the spells more difficult. But at least he'd been too occupied to worry about such things as 'who his parents really were'. At first he'd been busy performing spell after spell, and then trying to think up situations where they would be useful, or how to counter them if they were cast at him. It was actually amazing what even starting level spells could accomplish, if you just used them right.

Or as Remus pointed out, in many ways a wizard was only as good as his imagination in using the spells he knew. Harry had certainly come to the conclusion that power clearly wasn't everything. All this had kept his thoughts nicely occupied. But now, as he was dawdling over the last remains of his dinner, he found his mind starting to worry once again. He poked an errant piece of carrot around on his plate, brooding about the situation and how he could possibly pull this off.

He found it quite difficult to think of himself as Corvus. Obviously Remus had the same problem, as he kept variously addressing Harry … Corvus by both names, and there'd been distress in his eyes every time. Mostly the teacher had avoided Harry's name altogether if possible, and called him Cub instead. Then again, it had only been two days. Two days. It was … bloody amazing how much had changed in just two days. And yesterday he'd still been busy trying to think of himself as Harry. So he probably shouldn't stress about not being used to Corvus yet.

He sighed. The carrot was now ganging up with a stalk of broccoli on some left over noodles. He felt tired from sitting up straight the whole time. The bloody corset vest simply wouldn't allow for much slouching, and he'd discovered that keeping himself upright constantly was rather exhausting. He sighed again.

"Harry," Remus said softly. "It will get easier. Try not to think about it too much."

"That's just a bit hard with this thing," he snarled and tapped his chest. "Reminding me all the time."

Remus raised an eyebrow at him and looked impressed.

"What?" he bit out. He was more than just mildly irritated now.

"Oh, simply that you've managed to pick up quite a formidable scowl there," Remus said and laughed, reaching a hand across to ruffle Harry's … Corvus' hair.

Harry batted it away. He didn't feel playful at the moment. Unfortunately the older wizard's laughter was very infectious. He tried to resist it. He really did. In the end it did no good. He had to join in the laughter, because he was being silly. The corset was only an inconvenience. He'd get used to it. He'd get used to being Corvus. And he'd have to do so on the instinctive level, because as long as he had to think about it … that wouldn't work.

"Don't tell me I'm already turning into my father," he finally asked plaintively, putting on an exaggerated despairing expression. Which made Remus laugh even harder.

And while laughing about it didn't actually help his situation as such … it still made him feel a lot better.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The storm had started at some point before the end of dinner, but since they'd been eating in the windowless kitchen they hadn't noticed. But now Harry … Corvus was perched in the window-seat of the dark library, watching the wind toss the branches in the garden. It rained like mad at the moment, and occasional flashes of lightning lit everything up eerily. He was glad he'd had the foresight of putting cheesecloth over the new seedlings yesterday, and to construct a drainage, or they'd have been washed out by now. It was a truly torrential storm. Distant thunder growled almost continuously, punctuated ever so often by sharp clashes from closer strikes of lightning.

He brushed an errant curl back behind his ear and leaned his forehead against the cool window-pane. He was starting to get another headache. At least the rain was cooling everything down. Today's heat had added another layer of misery to the shopping trip. Of course most shops had been climate controlled. Which he hated even more, having to go from sweltering hot to barely above freezing. Or at least it seemed that way. They always put those things way too low in his opinion. And all those clothes they'd gotten for him … he felt quite uncomfortable with the sudden largesse.

He was roused from his musings by a spectacular clash of thunder which sounded as if it was right on top of the house. He almost jumped away from the window, and had to catch himself from falling by clutching hard at the window seat. The next moment he jumped again, as he was badly startled by a chuckle right next to his ear.

"Woah, Cub," Remus apologised. "I didn't mean to surprise you. Guess you did not hear me come in with all that noise out there."

He gestured towards the window, where the garden was still being treated to pouring rain, and casually settled himself beside Harry on the window-seat.

"How are you doing?" he asked with some concern, seeing Harry grimace.

"Just another headache," Harry admitted ruefully. "I guess I'd better get used to those," he sighed unhappily.

"Hmm," Remus agreed. "Unfortunately, there is a limit to how many painkiller potions you can take. Those blasted things can become addictive."

They both fell quiet then, watching the thunderstorm in silence. After a while it showed signs of abating, though the rain continued steadily. The sound of it drumming on the roofs, dripping from overhangs and gurgling down drains was strangely soothing. Harry … Corvus found himself drifting into a light doze, leaning comfortably against Remus' shoulder. The older man finally sighed and tapped Harry's nose to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, but I fear we have a bit more work to do tonight," he said with an apologetic smile. Harry rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. Instead he stretched, trying to easy his stiff back.

"Can I at least get out of this infernal thing?" he asked hopefully.

Remus laughed and ruffled Harry's … no definitely Corvus' curls. Those irritating curls totally belonged to Corvus.

"Of course," he agreed easily. "In fact I was going to suggest taking this up to your bedroom and getting comfy."

"We are going to start with the language lessons," he explained. "Just a bit of introduction to basic grammar, and then I'll set you up with the tapes. And run some relaxation exercises past you before you fall asleep. Why don't you go up and get changed for bed? Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be along in a quarter-hour or so."

Harry nodded. "Right," he agreed. That sounded acceptable. It was of course still rather early, but he felt tired after this exhausting day. Falling asleep was unlikely to be a problem.

.

oOoOoOoOo

But when Harry got up and headed towards the door, Remus' words stopped him before he could leave.

"Oh, sorry, I almost forgot. Could you come over here for a few minutes before you go upstairs?" Remus gestured towards the small round table in the middle of the library.

Once they had settled there, a flick of Remus' wand set several candles alight. The teacher then put the wand down on top of a notebook opened to a new blank page. There was also a pile of books on the table, most of which seemed to have the word 'rune' in the title somewhere.

"May I have a look at your hand," he asked earnestly, giving Harry … Corvus a searching look.

"Sure, why not?" Harry replied, blinking in surprise.

"You remember me saying that I had an idea about that scars?"

"Yeah. So … did you come up with something?"

"I think so," Remus said, holding out his own hand for Harry's. "It's something that certainly should work in theory."

He carefully examined Harry's hand, tilting it to catch the light from different angles, and running his thumb over the raised scar-tissue. He then proceeded to make an exact copy of the scar on a piece of paper. Harry simply watched him in bafflement. The teacher finally looked up and caught his gaze.

"You don't have any idea what I intend to do, do you?" he asked, smiling cheerfully.

"Can't say that I do," Harry admitted freely.

Remus gave the pile of books a suggestive glance.

"Runes?"

"See, you do know after all," the older wizard said with a laugh.

Harry just looked at him questioningly.

"You never took Ancient Runes, did you?" Remus asked.

Harry … Corvus sighed and shook his head. "No," he replied. "I wish I'd done that though, or Arithmancy. It would certainly have been more useful than Divination. That really was a waste of time. And I could have done without the regular predictions of my death," he added with a grimace.

"Well, if you are interested, I could teach you a bit about those subjects in the future. Especially runes can be very useful under many circumstances, especially when you are looking for more … permanent spell-work."

"See, what I want to try is to inscribe runes over the scar, supplanting the old words. Their meaning will be somewhat similar to the words _she_ used … but at the same time quite different. Right now this is a negative sentiment," Remus said firmly, tapping the scar with his finger. "I want to change it into a positive statement. So that it not only covers up the scar, but also shifts it from something defeatist into an expression of yourself."

"The new meaning I'm aiming for would very roughly read something like 'I will tell the truth'," Remus explained, gazing intently at him.

"Hmm. Yeah, I can see what you are trying to do with that change," Harry … Corvus said thoughtfully. "The … outcome of the two sentences is kind of the same. But this," he looked down on his hand in distaste. "Forbids me from doing something. It takes away my rights."

"Yes. It prohibits and restricts. And while telling lies would not necessarily be considered a good thing under most circumstances ..."

"Sometimes you have to," Harry finished.

"But your version … ," he tilted his head in thought. "Leaves the decision whether I do or not up to me."

"That is the intention, yes. It's something that should be empowering. By your will and intent you tell the truth, not because you are forced to."

"But I will have to lie a lot in the future," Harry said, giving his teacher a dark look.

"Yes and no. In many ways you will simply be true to yourself."

"Hmm. True to myself. Do you think I wasn't before?"

Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. The werewolf was by now looking a bit tired as well.

"That is a difficult question to answer. But from all you have told us in the last couple of days … you _have_ kept a lot hidden."

Harry … Corvus lowered his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I haven't necessarily told lies but ..."

"The good old question whether omission and evasion is a lie or not, yes."

Harry nodded. "But I certainly never felt very comfortable being Harry Potter. So I guess I wasn't really true to myself then, was I?"

"Probably not, no."

Harry smiled softly at the older wizard. "You know, I think this _is_ a very good idea. It could help me get a new outlook on this whole situation."

Remus nodded, returning his smile happily.

"So … any idea yet what runes you wanted to use?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well, first you must understand that the interpretation of runes isn't very … clear-cut. They have multiple meanings. And a lot of subtle shadings of interpretation. And there are only a handful, compared to the innumerable words modern language uses. So it is a matter of picking out something that comes close to the meaning one intends … in something like this at least. Their magical meanings are more defined."

Harry nodded earnestly.

"We have five words in that deplorable sentence. However, I want to use these four runes to override it. The first one needs to express the self, or the 'I', and represents you and your intent. Now the best for that purpose is the rune Mannaz, which stands for man or mankind, and in a divinatory context it would signify the self, but also family or community, and relationships."

Remus opened his note-book to a fresh page and drew the runes while he continued his explanation.

"The next one will be Dagaz, the day rune. It stands for success, awakening, certainty, for causing a positive outcome. It is about transformation, the power of change directed by your will. This should counteract that 'must not' of the old sentence."

"To replace the 'tell' I would choose Sowilo, the sun rune. Again it denotes success, but also positive energy, and power. There simply is no rune for 'telling'," the teacher explained. "However, the sun is the source of all radiation and light, which allows the truth to be shown. There is a strong element of … revelation and display about the sun."

"Now the last one is even trickier, since there is no rune that directly stands for truth," Remus said. "So the best I could come up with is Kenaz, the 'torch' rune. I think it's quite suitable, though, as it signifies wisdom, insight and knowledge. And well, given that 'telling the truth' will not always be possible for you anyway … this is probably actually better," he said, with an intent look at Harry.

Harry blinked in surprise, staring at his teacher. Remus normally appeared so placid, and even a bit vague at times. But right now he was not only very enthusiastic, but also strangely … forceful. Determined. This wasn't a side of him Harry … Corvus had ever seen. But it was inspiring.

And he could take this transformation of his scar as a symbol for his whole life. To take something … bad, and shift it, even if only by a small degree, into something else that was more constructive. To change a negative into a positive through insight and willpower. It was somehow all there in those four innocent looking runes. He found himself suddenly eager to have this done.

"So when can we do this?"

"In a week or two. I need to do a bit more research, mostly about how to apply the runes. And I have an ...interesting setting for the ritual in mind."

Harry blinked again, feeling taken aback. "Ritual?"

"Hmm, maybe ritual isn't quite the right word for it. Think of it simply as … creating an appropriate setting. Something to help your mind rid itself of unwanted and unwholesome past influences," Remus explained, tapping Harry's scar at the last words. "And aiding in strengthening the runes we will replace this with."

"You see, how effective this will be, depends to a great degree on you and the conviction you can put behind it," the teacher gave Harry a searching look. Harry nodded earnestly to show his understanding.

"Now I know that you did not really believe what she made you write, and in fact fought against it. Which is why this," he tapped Harry's hand again. "Doesn't actually influence your behaviour."

Harry gave him an appalled look. "Should it?" he asked dumbfounded.

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes," he confirmed. "This works a lot like a minor _Imperius_ curse. Blood quills _are_ sometimes used in a beneficial setting. To be precise, for the signing of important, _binding_ contracts. As such, they are used with the full knowledge and agreement of the person using them, and signing with them creates something close to an unbreakable vow."

Harry felt sick. "Then why ..." he began.

"Why aren't you forced to comply? Think, Harry. What spell can you throw off?"

"Oh. Right."

"Indeed. She was not only torturing you, but also trying to overcome your resistance. But you were stronger than her," Remus said with a proud smile, covering Harry's hands with his own. "And you were stronger than the compulsion of the quill."

"However," he continued, his expression turning serious. "It was repeated how many times? And every time it left a minute residue in you. It weakened you, because it was an assault against your will. It also made you stronger at the same time, but it left a tiny … crack of doubt."

Harry just stared at him, feeling suddenly terrified.

"Oh, Cub," Remus exclaimed, and tightened his hold on Harry's hands. "Don't worry. This," he motioned with his chin to the page where he had earlier drawn the runic symbols. "Will help set it to rights. And therefore it is important that we do it perfectly, because if we manage … you will emerge all the stronger for it. It will turn from a slight weakness into something that is actually a defence against the dark."

Harry … Corvus nodded, feeling the moment of dread drain away. "Okay," he said slowly. "Is there anything I can do to … prepare for it?"

"Hmm. It would actually be a good idea if you meditated on the runes and their meaning for you and your future whenever you can. Here," Remus declared, taking a fresh page of parchment and drawing the runic symbols again, one below the other. He then wrote the meanings he'd discussed with Harry beside each one. While he waved the page gently to help it dry, he gave Harry a gentle smile.

"You are one extraordinary young man," he told Harry proudly. When he wanted to protest, Remus held up his other hand to silence him.

"No, you are. Because again and again, you have beaten the odds. And you will keep doing so, because you don't let the small things bear you down. And you face the big ones bravely, and fear does not stop you. Luck may have played an important role in your past encounters with You-know-who, but do you know what was important about that?" he asked Harry … Corvus seriously.

He shook his head.

"The fact that you don't _rely_ on that luck. You take it and use it to your advantage when it happens, but you don't bank on it . But you can think on your feet, and use anything available to turn things in your favour. And this," he patted Harry's hand once more. "Will be another case of turning something bad into something that helps you. And makes you stronger."

"Because in the end, to become … more than you were before, you need adversity. A person who always gets given everything, will never grow in personality," Remus explained, with another searching look.

"Rather like my cousin, or Malfoy. Who _is_ actually my cousin now," Harry … Corvus offered after a thoughtful pause. "When you get everything you want, you just become spoiled. And useless, really."

"Yes, exactly. Now I'm not saying that this makes everything bad that has happened to you good, or right. It doesn't. But what _is_ good about it, is that you have learned from it. That you have grown because of it, and shaped yourself into a better person. But ..."

"But?"

"But you need to believe it, too. You have one great weakness, and that is your self-confidence. You doubt yourself too much, Harry. _Corvus_," Remus corrected himself, shaking his head in exasperation. "You are aware of your weaknesses, and that is good. But you also need to know your strengths. You need to trust in yourself."

Harry nodded. Because Remus _was_ right. He carefully picked up the parchment with the runes and let his eyes run over them, before looking back up at the teacher.

"These are a lot about self-confidence, aren't they?"

"Yes. Something to help you erase at least some of the doubts plaguing you. And to remind you that even if you are surrounded by darkness, you carry the daylight and the sun and a beacon with you. They can light your way through the doubt and the dark."

Harry stared at the runes. He couldn't describe the feeling that had taken hold of him at hearing Remus' words, but it was … big. Something that wanted to burst out of him and make him cry and shout in joy simultaneously. Because this … was just right. This was what he needed. Something deceptively simple, and at the same time very profound. He could use this to chase the shadows of doubt away. Who cared about the tarnish, when he could light a flame right in his heart that kept the darkness at bay.

It was a moment of illumination. Because this would lighten his load, and guide him away from the crushing self-doubts. Because he was … himself. And he could shine like the sun, and burn away the uncertainties. No matter that he didn't always get it right. That he made mistakes. He would learn from them, and move on, and become stronger. Better than he had been. And if you carried a light with you, the darkness couldn't touch you. You could wade right through it, and wouldn't be tainted.

It was the flame of conviction, of knowing you did things for the right reasons, and as best as you could. And that if you failed, you would simply keep going. Trying again until you got it right. That as long as you willingly carried the light in your heart, nothing could extinguish it. He had to blink back tears at the enormity of this emotion that felt like his heart was bursting.

"Cub?"

"Thank you," he said fervently, when he finally got enough control over his voice. "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"This," he realised that his hands still clutching the parchment were shaking. "This is exactly what I needed," he said and turned a jubilant smile on Remus. "It's … just right. Perfect."

"Oh, Cub," the teacher said, smiling back proudly. "Then I'm even happier that I thought of it."

Harry … Corvus nodded avidly. "Yes. Thank you," he repeated.

"All right," Remus smiled at him fondly. "I guess that's all about this for now then. So up to bed with you. I'll be with you soon."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Twenty minutes later he'd settled into bed, stretching out fully and luxuriating in the feeling of not being constantly constrained by the corset. It certainly served as a reminder that things were different. He sighed. He might get used to it eventually. Maybe. He couldn't imagine ever getting used to the permanent feeling of confinement. Though it was also … supportive, in a way.

Perhaps he should try to concentrate on that aspect of it? Actually, there was no perhaps about it. In the light of his earlier self-discovery, it was so obvious. It was simply another thing he could use to make himself better. A minor annoyance he could turn into a strength. Concentrate on the positive, not the negative.

Right then Remus knocked on the door, entering after a moment.

"So, nice and comfy?" he asked with a smile, which grew wider at Harry' enthusiastic nod. "Here, these are a couple of books on Spanish grammar. I'll just go through some of the basics with you tonight, comparing it to how it works in English."

And so they did. It was easier than he'd expected. And Harry was suddenly grateful for strict Miss Jenkins, who'd drilled them in English grammar during primary school. He hadn't appreciated it much then. But now it turned out to be ever so much easier to learn a foreign grammar when you had a solid grounding in how things worked in your own language. Of course, it would be a while before he could actually apply what they'd started on today, but it still felt like they'd made progress.

An hour later Remus declared himself satisfied with what they had accomplished, and Harry … Corvus kept yawning. So they started in on the relaxation stuff. Which was, well, relaxing. Especially when he was already feeling sleepy. Trying to breathe slowly and steadily, while feeling himself sink into fluffy white clouds and attempting to not think about anything, was really nice. He was drifting on the edge of sleep when Remus brought out the tape recorder.

"Now these tapes are excellent for our purpose," he explained, smiling softly as he slotted one into the old Muggle contraption.

"The recorder fortunately runs on batteries. This first one has mostly simple phrases and core expressions that are used a lot … everyday stuff, exactly like children would hear when they first learn the language. I have others with vocabulary and verb forms, too. And with the charm added … I hope you will be able to pick up a lot overnight without actually having to sit down and learn it consciously."

Harry was all right with that. He was also fine with Remus waving his wand at him, muttering something under his breath. And then the teacher tucked him in, gently brushed a few locks from Harry's brow, and left the room. While he drifted off to sleep, securely wrapped in blankets and fluffy whiteness, he heard the tape recorder drone on. He quite liked the sound. Spanish had a very nice and melodic cadence. Just before he finally fell asleep, his eyes came to rest on the dream-catcher.

And had there been an observer in the room, they would have seen a smile on his face when sleep claimed him.

.

oOoOoOoOo


	12. Nymphadora

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry's body was quite well-rested when he woke up the next day. His sleep had been untroubled, despite not having taken any potions. His mind, however, felt decidedly strange. The phrases from the Spanish lesson tape kept echoing around his head in a very disconcerting way. It certainly gave him an appreciation for his father's warnings about using a learning charm unsupervised.

On the other hand, everything from the tape seemed deeply etched into his memory. He doubted he'd be able to forget any of it again. Which made learning the language in such a short time actually a real possibility, if he could soak up the vocabulary while he slept. At the moment, all he had were disjointed bits, but once his knowledge of grammar became more extensive, it would hopefully all slot into place. It was certainly an optimistic note to start the day on.

Still, now that he was awake, the constant echoing of the phrases was getting increasingly distracting and uncomfortable. Therefore the very first thing he did was to hastily throw on a robe and look for Remus to take the charm off him. He gave the portrait of Phineas Nigellus a cursory glance as he moved past it, but the frame remained empty. A knock on Remus' door received no answer, so he went downstairs to the kitchen. Remus turned to give him a welcoming smile when Harry walked in, obviously in the middle of setting up for breakfast.

"Good morning, … Corvus," he said, his voice faltering for a moment. The teacher's smile turned rueful. "Sorry, that name will take me a bit longer to get used to."

"Good morning, Remus," Harry … Corvus replied with an answering rueful look. "Don't worry, I have the same problem."

"I can imagine. Did you sleep well?" Remus' eyes searched Harry's face carefully.

"Yeah, quite well, and the tape and spell do seem to work," Harry offered.

"No problems then?"

"Well, I have this strange echoing effect in my head. Which is why I came straight down," he added apologetically, tugging at his untidy robe. "Could you stop the spell now, please?"

"Of course, cub. Although I'd better teach you how to cast the counter yourself. For the future, you know. It is a variety of the normal _finite incantatem_," he explained, letting his wand drop into his hand from a wrist holder. "Did you bring your wand?"

Harry fished it out of his pocket, which prompted Remus to give a disapproving hum.

"We will need to get you a wrist holder, and teach you how to use it properly. Pockets just will not do," he said with a shake of his head. "It's much too easy to loose your wand that way or even damage it accidentally. Quite aside from the fact that having to fumble it out of a pocket, where it can snag, really slows down your reaction time when you need it in a hurry."

"Now the wand-movement is like this... " Remus explained, demonstrating a few of times. He watched with a critical eye as Harry attempted to copy his teacher's movements.

"Yes, that's right. The incantation is _finite __recordatio_. Go on, give it a try."

The echoing stopped instantly when Harry cast the spell, pronouncing the words carefully. The resulting silence in his head was a real blessing. The phrases, however, were still all there in his memory when he thought about them. He gave Remus a relieved smile.

"Thanks, Remus."

"You are very welcome, Corvus."

"Right. I still need to get dressed, but … do you think we could have the lesson outside this morning? The weather's really nice again," Harry said with a yearning look.

"Sure thing," Remus replied, turning back to the table. "Hurry up though, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

.

oOoOoOoOo

A few hours later, Harry … Corvus was changing into one of … Corvus' new outfits, after a quick shower to wash the dirt from working in the garden from his body. It had been a wonderful morning. Remus had managed to intermingle language lessons with spell theory and quizzing Harry about the most effective ways to use a variety of spells. The teacher also kept throwing phrases from last night's tape at … Corvus, who found himself replying to them with unconscious ease. He even got the pronunciation and inflections right, according to Remus.

Meanwhile he'd kept his hands busy pruning rose bushes and taming the overgrown shrubbery, and filling a bucket or two with weeds pulled from the flowerbeds. Altogether the morning had been productive, relaxing, and interesting. And most of all, it had been _fun_. Which he felt vaguely guilty about. Should learning and working hard really be fun? Then again, maybe that's exactly what learning ought to be like? And hard work which produced obvious and pleasing results was at the very least satisfying, especially if it was done entirely voluntarily. And it had been his own garden he was fixing up, not someone else's.

In any case he was still full of enthusiastic and unexpectedly happy feelings when he went downstairs for lunch, even though he was back to enduring the damn … supportive corset again. He was also a bit uncomfortable with his new finery. Used to wearing halfway rags as he'd been for most of his life, even the simplest of his new clothing felt ridiculously fancy. He pushed the kitchen door open to find the three adults already sitting down for lunch.

"A good day to you, Corvus. It seems you are in excellent spirits?" Dumbledore greeted him with one of his trademark fond smiles.

He smiled back at the headmaster.

"Hello, Professor. Yes, I had a brilliant morning. I got to do some work in the garden while Remus gave me lessons. He even transfigured the wall of the garden shed into a blackboard! Oh, and the thing with the tape worked really well, too."

"That is good to hear, dear boy. Now come and sit down so we can get started with lunch, Nymphadora will be here soon."

He took the empty seat next to Snape and gave the man a shy smile, which received a nod and a faint smile in return. Which reminded him of another problem, because he had no clue what he should call his father now. He could hardly call him Snape, and he didn't feel up to addressing him as father, or even worse _dad_ … yet. Aside from the fact that he didn't know how such an appellation would be received by … his father. And Snape didn't seem to appreciate being called sir or Professor either, now that he knew … Corvus was his son.

He kept thinking about the problem all during lunch, occasionally sneaking glances at his father. Apparently he was more obvious about it than he thought, because the third time he did that, he was met with a raised eyebrow. He gave Snape a slight shrug in reply, and glanced for a moment at the clock ticking on the wall. His father seemed to get the message, which was _later_, as he just gave … Corvus a nod in reply and resumed eating with a relaxed air.

Once they'd finished their meal, Remus and Dumbledore went upstairs to meet with Tonks, leaving Harry alone with his father. Normally he would have started doing the dishes out of sheer reflex, but he wasn't exactly dressed for doing housework. Instead he watched with interest as Snape moved the dishes to the sink with a spell. He was so fascinated by the parade of levitating plates and cutlery that he gave a start when his father suddenly spoke up.

"So. What where all those glances about?" Snape asked, sounding amused but friendly.

It was still so strange to hear the man speak like this. To him. Not that he was complaining. Oh no. He'd take the new Snape behaviour over the old one every time. But that didn't make it any less strange. However, he owed his father an explanation. His father. Who gave him faint smiles, and behaved … calm and supportive, and who so far had not shown any signs of falling back into his old routine aside from a bit of impatience now and then.

He turned around and met his father's dark gaze. Which was considering and calculating like usual, but he was starting to think of that as not a bad thing. Which was strange too, but also reassuring. After all, he would have to handle the Slytherins in the near future. He was bound to _be_ one himself, all too soon. So his developing an appreciation of the Slytherin way of thinking was all to the good. And also a bit scary, how easily he was slipping into it. Then again, he could have been one all this time, if he'd accepted the Hat's suggestions, so maybe it wasn't really surprising.

"Oh, it's just that I can't figure out what I should call you … now," he said, trying to sound unconcerned and not as if this was a big deal.

"Ah. I see," Snape said, and unexpectedly took a step forward to put his hands on … Corvus' shoulders. He stared up at his father, surprised by the sudden closeness. Dark eyes were looking into his intently. The intensity of the regard almost made him shiver.

"Do not worry too much about that for now," Snape said softly. "It will likely sort itself out, and as long as you do not turn into a disrespectful brat, I will not censure you for what you chose to call me."

"But isn't that what you always thought I was?"

"Thought, indeed. I _think_ we both know better now, don't we?"

He nodded in reply, still caught in his father's unrelenting gaze.

"I have something for you. I fear it is a bit late, but … I wished to give you a gift for your birthday, too," Snape said, and released Harry's shoulders to collect a wrapped box from the sideboard. He held it out for Harry … Corvus to take. It turned out to be fairly heavy for its size. He stared at it for a moment, struck by an unexpected feeling of wonder. His father had gotten him a present for his birthday. He looked back up into the dark regard, marking the faint smile lurking once again on the otherwise impassive face.

"Thank you," was all he could say, clutching the box reverently.

"Are you going to open it, too?"

A few days ago he would have bristled at the sarcastic tone, but accompanied as it was by an ironically raised eyebrow and that lurking smile, he found himself smiling back instead. Shedding the wrapping and opening the box revealed a smooth glass sphere, rather like a paperweight, which seemed to be full of drifting clouds. They moved a bit when he gave the globe an experimental shake.

"It may look like just a fancy paperweight, but it is charmed to respond to your emotional state. If you get upset or angry, the clouds will turn into a miniature storm, and they will be calm and floating when you are relaxed and in a good mood."

Well, at the moment those clouds were definitely happy ones. He smiled down at the globe in his hands, cradling it gently.

"I thought it might be useful if you need to do calming exercises, and given what you choose as your trigger for Occlumency ..." Snape's voice actually had an insecure edge.

Which just would not do.

"Thank you," he repeated, turning the happy smile on his father. Who caught his breath, and this time Harry was positive he wasn't merely imagining the answering smile on Severus Snape's face.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Hello, Dora," Remus greeted her with a shy smile as she stumbled from the floo, quickly reaching out a hand to keep her from falling over the next moment. "Honestly, I'm sure you aren't really that clumsy?"

"Well, maybe I am," she replied with a cheeky grin. "Maybe I'm not. And no-one will ever be able to tell!" she exclaimed happily, dusting herself off vigorously. "You really need to clean out the fireplace, though."

"Hmm," he agreed vaguely. "Lots to do, little time to do it in," he added with a wink, grabbing her hand and towing her from the room.

"Where are we going?"

"To the library. There's something there we need to show you."

"Oh, all right," she agreed with a roll of her eyes. "But let it be noted I hate that gloomy place."

He laughed and agreed easily. "You are hardly the only one."

Once through the door they were met by a smiling headmaster.

"How are you, dear Nymphadora?" the old man asked with an amused twinkle at her instant scowl. "Still not fond of your own name, I presume?"

"Call me Tonks," she told him fiercely. "Or at least Dora, if you must."

"Certainly, Dora," he agreed, gesturing her to take a seat at a table in the middle of the room, which was surrounded by several chairs.

"Now," he began once the three of them had settled down. "We have called you here, because we need your help. We need you to impersonate someone for a few weeks."

She raised an eyebrow in interest. "I take it this is something I need to keep from the ministry and the Aurors?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and fixed her with a piercing gaze.

"Yes. Very much so. In fact, before we can proceed, we require you to swear an oath on your magic to not divulge anything you will learn ... to anyone," he told her earnestly.

"Okay … that's asking for a lot," she replied with a frown.

"I know. However, what you will learn, if you swear is … a very big secret. And one which could cost lives if it were found out too soon."

"Wow. And you want to let _me_ in on it?"

"You are uniquely qualified to help us with this matter, for various reasons. Your ability to impersonate someone long-term without resorting to charms or Polyjuice being, of course, the most important."

"You wouldn't involve me, if it wasn't for that, would you?"

"No," he replied frankly. "We would not. The fewer people learn of this, the better. Until now, there were only four people in on this secret, with you it will be five. And this is the number it will stay at, unless we really have to bring someone else in. Which hopefully will not be until after Voldemort has found a permanent end, at which point keeping it will become unimportant in any case."

She blinked at the old wizard. "This sounds more serious by the minute," she said carefully, thinking rapidly. "I am tempted to take your oath, but how likely is this to put me in conflict with my _job_?"

"Seriously? Quite a bit, unfortunately. But only if they find out about it. And since anyone but ourselves finding out about it is the absolute last thing we want to happen … you should be relatively safe."

"Who are the other two then, aside from you and Remus, obviously? If you can tell me at least that much?"

"One is Professor Snape. The other is the one this secret is about, so I cannot yet tell you."

"If I don't agree, you will obliviate me, won't you?" she asked more calmly than she really felt.

The headmaster's expression was grave when he simply nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought hard. This sounded like a big thing, and to be in on it … to be trusted with something that important, was tempting. With the Aurors, she was still stuck on doing meaningless paperwork and trainee level missions at best. And then there was the fact that obviously Remus was involved, too. She opened her eyes again and darted a quick look at the werewolf. He was watching her intently. Hard to tell why, exactly, but still … she smiled inwardly. She returned her gaze to Dumbledore, who had a knowing look in his eyes. His lips twitched a bit as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"And? What decision have you come to?" he asked her politely, but the knowing twinkle didn't leave his eyes.

"Oh, all right. You've managed to have my curiosity get the better of me," she said with a little sigh. Her eyes flicked back to Remus, who was giving her a relieved smile. "So what am I swearing?"

"I, Nymphadora Tonks, swear on my magic that I shall not in any form divulge anything I learn in this house during this summer, nor regarding the people currently resident in this house, to anybody not presently in this house, unless asked to do so by someone present at the moment in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. So mote it be," Dumbledore calmly told her the wording, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

With her heart suddenly beating faster, she stood up and reached out to twine her hand around his. She watched Remus get up as well, flipping his wand down from an arm sheet and holding it over their clasped ones. The younger wizard's eyes went between her and Dumbledore, ending up on her again with a reassuring smile before he let his wand touch their entwined hands, his face taking on a look of concentration.

Her eyes returned to the headmaster, and after a swallow to moisten her suddenly dry throat, she intoned the words of the oath back at Dumbledore. She felt the magic settle around their clasped hands, and the weight of the oath take hold on her magic. It was a horrible experience, which explained why wizards were so reluctant to swear binding vows on their magic. Quite aside from the danger of loosing it, if things went wrong.

"So," she asked with a flippant note in her voice and a lift of her chin to hide the distress she still felt. "Who _is_ this mysterious person who's such a big deal?"

The headmaster looked at Remus. "If you would be so kind as to fetch them, dear boy?" he asked quietly.

She watched the younger wizard assent with a nod and move over to the door, sticking his head out and calling for Severus. Dumbledore cleared his throat, which brought her attention back to the older wizard.

"You see, dear Dora, we made a ... stunning ... discovery recently," the headmaster said, looking at her intently. "And I assure you, this is neither a prank nor a joke."

"Why would I think that," she began, but right then the door opened wide to admit Snape into the library, who immediately fixed her with a disapproving glare. She was about to give him a challenging one back, when another person entered the room. And that's when everything went strange. Because this slight young man, whose very posture screamed of nervousness and uncertainty, looked just like …

"This, dear Dora, is someone you know," Dumbledore informed her calmly.

"He looks like … Bellatrix," she croaked. The youngster stared back at her with an unhappy expression. There was something about those expressive dark eyes, though …

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, he does. However, this is, in fact, none other than _Harry Potter_."

"But ..." she felt shocked through and through. "What have you done with him? And why? Why does he look like _her_?" she snarled the last word.

The youngster flinched at her words, and took an involuntary step backwards. Snape put out an arm to stop him from retreating further, and the two dark-eyed men exchanged an indecipherable look.

The headmaster sighed again. "Unfortunately, _we_ haven't done anything. This is his real appearance now ... after the enchantments presumably placed on him by Lily Potter broke. As it turns out, he never was a Potter in the first place. He really is your cousin, Dora. Bellatrix _is_ his mother."

She sank back down on her chair, feeling faint. Okay, so not a joke. Serious secret, right. That about summed it up.

"So you really are … Harry?" she asked, with heavy disbelief in her voice.

The youngster stirred and moved forward, stopping short of the table to clasp his fingers around the backrest of a chair. Snape came up behind him, standing over the boy with a watchful air, but fixing his dark brooding gaze on her. The boy lifted his eyes after a moment to look at her, too. She almost gasped, because those two sets of eyes were amazingly similar.

"Yes. I was, at least," the youngster admitted.

"And now?"

"Apparently someone named me Corvus," he replied, his eyes flicking momentarily to the dark man hovering behind him.

Okay, there was definitely some story there. And those eyes …

"Corvus Lestrange?"

His lips twitched at that. "Nah," he replied with almost a smirk. "At least I was spared _that_ fate. According to that thing," he pointed at the Black tapestry hanging between the two windows. "My name is Corvus Black."

"Right," she said, though there was little that was _right_ about the situation.

"So if you're not a Lestrange … whose son are you?"

Eyes met around the table. Snape appeared unhappy. Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow and gave the potions master a _look_.

"Oh, all right," Snape conceded testily and took a seat, folding his arms primly and fixing her with a penetrating stare. Dumbledore resumed his chair, and Remus and … Harry … settled on the remaining two.

"First of all you must understand most of this is conjecture. There was a fair amount of … obliviating involved," Snape cautioned her. "Which explains why Bellatrix herself is apparently quite unaware of having a son. And why in fact until Corvus' birthday," his eyes went to the young wizard. "When the glamours broke and his name showed up on the tapestry, no-one had any idea of this."

"_You're_ his father, aren't you?"

There was a pause.

"Ten points for perceptiveness," Snape said with a sigh.

"It was the eyes, wasn't it?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Yes," she admitted. "If you really want to keep this a secret, avoid standing close to each other," she advised them, looking from one to the other. "And don't glare at someone at the same time, either."

Harry … Corvus? rolled his eyes at her.

"You do not seem upset by the idea, however, Miss Tonks," Snape commented, giving her a speculative look.

She shrugged. "Well, frankly, all of this is … too much to process. I'll probably have myself a nice mental breakdown later. But I'd rather have you as his father, Professor, than someone like Lestrange," she pointed out with a wry smile. "At least _you_ are on our side. I'm still very curious as to how this came about, though," she added.

"To put it in a nutshell, I had an … affair with your aunt at some point. And since I certainly was not the only one at the time," Snape cast a look at the young wizard sitting next to him, who was grimacing in disgust. "I guess we should be glad it turned out to be me."

"We honestly do not fully know what happened, though. Presumably I took the child from Bellatrix after his birth, and brought him to the Potters. Lily Potter was my best friend for many years," Snape explained, his expression turning pained. "Our friendship did not survive, sadly. But obviously she took my son in, and hid his identity. Given that I have discovered several gaps in my memory, now that I know to look for them, she then obliviated all my knowledge of him," he concluded with a shrug.

"After all this came to light on his birthday, young Corvus here," Dumbledore took over the explanation, smiling fondly at the young man. "Decided to take up his … new, or at least newly discovered, identity rather than remain as Harry Potter. Which is where you come in, dear Dora."

"You want me to impersonate Harry Potter?"

"Indeed, at least long enough that people will not question the timing of Harry Potter's disappearance, and Corvus Black's appearance."

She gave them all a long, considering look. Followed by wicked grin.

"All right, this should be fun. So what's the plan exactly?"

.

oOoOoOoOo

"I want to know how you feel about this? Are you all right? I mean, this was quite the shock even to me, and I'm not to one who has to be you. Ehm, you know what I mean," she finished lamely.

"Yeah, well, you said it yourself, it was a big shock," he admitted, running a hand through those startling dark curls, his equally dark eyes distant and contemplative. "But … it's not been too bad otherwise, really."

"Really?" she asked disbelievingly. "I mean, I can't imagine how I'd feel about having her as my mother suddenly."

She shuddered at the thought. "It's bad enough knowing she is my aunt."

"Yeah. I think it's got something to do with being a Black, actually. It's rather strange, but it seems as if something about the house itself is kind of … welcoming me. Making me feel better," the youngster said, gesturing at the brooding building. "This never felt like a home to me. Now it suddenly does. And I love this garden," he added, looking about in obvious pleasure.

"But well," he shrugged and made a face. "Mostly I simply try not to think about her. What with all the planning for this, and Remus and … my father teaching me stuff, I just do my best to keep busy. And I've come to realise it doesn't change who I am," he concluded with a wry smile. "No matter what my name is, or who my parents are, I'll always be … me."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Rather mature of you, that. How do you get along with the Professor, though? You used to be so much at odds with him, and he must be just as shocked, no?"

"Hmm, he was, yes. And yeah, we never got along. But we are … all right now," Harry said guardedly.

Harry. Corvus. She'd have to get used to the new name. Best to think of this as an undercover Auror mission. They'd given her plenty of training for those, after all, what with her being the only Metamorphmagus on the force. And remember to think of the youngster not as a child to protect, but as her mission partner, who had his own role to play.

"We've talked a fair bit, and well, he's changed how he treats me. It's actually quite easy to get along with him … now," the dark-eyed young wizard next to her admitted with a faint smile. It was so strange to see him with those dark eyes. And that face, of course.

"Yeah, I noticed that. It was actually the other thing to make me realise he was your father. I've seen the two of you interact before, after all. But when you came in with him earlier he was so … protective of you. And you so accepting of it," she added with a penetrating look.

"I guess I am. Everything has really changed. It's totally weird at times. But … I do like it, strange as it is," Harry … Corvus said quietly, again with that faint smile. Which developed into a smirk when he continued.

"Just don't expect him to treat you nicely when you pretend to be Harry Potter."

"Hmm, I guess in return I get to act as if I hate him, too?"

"Oh, yes. Have fun with that."

"Did you really hate him, though?"

"Mostly I hated how he treated me, I think. Now he's changed that … I kind of find him quite good company."

"Yeah, I think I could see that."

"Really?"

"You seemed almost at ease in each other's presence. And what stiffness remained was mostly that of two people who are a bit insecure about each other, and trying not to set the other off. There was none of the constant hostility you two used to give off."

"Good," Corvus said, and this time the faint smile was rather happy.

She smiled back.

"Right. I guess we should start on what we're actually here for, though. Would you please move around for me? The way you will be as Corvus Black?"

She observed him critically as he walked about the garden, sat down, got up again, leaned against a wall, bent to sniff at some roses, and simply stood about looking at her thoughtfully.

"I don't remember you ever being so … stiff as Harry," she remarked after a while.

Corvus groaned and made a disgusted face.

"That's because no-one ever made Harry Potter run around in a bloody sodding _corset_!" he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

She couldn't help herself, she gaped at him.

"What?"

"A corset. My _dear_ father bloody well makes me wear a corset," he lamented, with a greatly put upon expression. Which turned into a glare that would have made Snape proud when she started laughing at him. Which of course only made her laugh harder.

"You should see your face," she gasped out finally. "And the way you glare … Merlin! Just like him."

"Yeah, yeah, I can imagine," he said, suddenly smirking at her. "The thing isn't so bad, really, and it seems to be doing its job. And of course soon _you'll_ get to wear it, too," he added with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

That stopped her laughter, all right. She had to wonder though. This young man was still the Harry she'd known and observed plenty while on guard duty. And at the same time … he was not. It didn't feel quite like _change_ though. It was more as if he was letting her see some other side of him. And those smirks and glares … the relationship between him and Snape was rather obvious when you knew it was there.

"You know, if you don't want people to realise you are related to Snape you will have to watch yourself," she cautioned him.

"Are we that similar?"

"Some of your expressions are, yes. You should practise being more … blank. And whatever you do, try not to glare at people. That's by far the worst give away."

He sighed. "I'll try. Maybe I should copy Dumbledore's twinkle instead."

"Hmm. Actually what you should aim for is … a laid back air. Relaxed. Casual. Indifferent. Your father is always so … intense. And it would make for an interesting contrast to a stiff body language," she added, contemplating him thoughtfully. "It would make it harder for people to tell what you are really like."

"Well, the others thought I should behave distant, distrustful, and rather stiff. So which is it?"

"Hmm. Well, distant and withdrawn works too, I'd say. You just have to watch the intense looks, I think. And you can pretend to be indifferent and disinterested in other people and their opinions. And kind of amused and disdainful at their antics, if you know what I mean. Maybe even a bit mocking."

He made a face. "I guess I really, really need to learn how to control my emotions then," he said with a sigh.

"Yeah. It will also make you different from Harry Potter, who is well-known for being rather … explosive," she told him with a wink.

"I am, aren't I? Or was, maybe? This is all … difficult. Strange. Confusing," he complained, looking distressed for the first time since they'd started talking.

She couldn't help herself, she had to give him a hug. He remained stiff for a bit, before relaxing with a sigh and returning her hug. She patted his back and squeezed him harder for a moment.

"You can do this," she told his dark curls. "I think you're a better actor than most people realise. Don't forget I got to watch you a fair bit while keeping guard at the Dursleys. I saw how you behaved 'round them, and it was nothing like you were when you were here. Or now. And I never saw you blow up at them, so I'm pretty sure you _can_ control your emotions."

"Hmm," he agreed vaguely. "But that was mostly because if I didn't, they'd punish me for it."

"But if you fail now, you put yourself and your father in danger," she pointed out. "Isn't that motivation enough?"

"Of course. But it's not just that. Behaving like I did 'round the Dursleys was simply … what I was used to from little. I'd automatically slip into it when I was in their home. I didn't have to do anything consciously."

"So maybe you need a trigger for your new Corvus Black behaviour?" she mused. "I mean, you already wear that corset for the physical posture. So you could also try tying your emotions and behaviour to it," she suggested after a thoughtful pause.

His expression turned considering. He. Corvus. She needed to remember that, and start _thinking_ it, too. He wasn't the only one who needed a trigger. So … dark curls and dark eyes should make her think Corvus _Black_. Who was her cousin. Family. She smiled to herself, and released one side of him to lift a hand and twirl some of these dark curls around her finger. She wondered if he realised how handsome he looked now, especially dressed up like he was.

"Yeah, that could work," Corvus agreed finally. "So I need to work wearing the corset into triggering Corvus' behaviour. And with time I should turn into him, anyway."

"Well, you are him, you know."

He made a face. "Yes and no. I'm not his behaviour, though. Yet. That's something I'll have to train myself into. You know, so it's automatic. And that will take time."

"Hmm," she agreed, twirling the curls some more, and giving him another squeeze before finally releasing him. "But we are agreed on the distant, indifferent and mildly amused? Because I'll have to pretend to be Corvus soonish, and I wouldn't want to mess it up for you."

"Don't forget the distrustful," he reminded her, giving her a wry smile and patting down his disturbed hair. "But yeah, that should work. Also don't forget to talk slowly, like you are unused to speaking English, and a bit formal. And you'll have to be prepared to be met with a lot of bad reactions and prejudice."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, when they learned of Corvus' existence, the Weasley's reaction was not exactly … welcoming. Imagine how they'd feel about a prospective baby Death Eater, and you know what to expect."

"Oh dear."

"Indeed. So distant and distrustful should be okay, but please play up the 'I totally don't like dark lords and their ideas and methods' for all your worth with them."

"You know, this job looks more and more interesting," she said with an irreverent grin, tapping his nose with a finger. "So many opportunities to mess with people's brains."

"Dora ..." he complained with a whine.

"What, I can't poke fun at my own cousin," she asked, which earned her a hesitant smile. "Don't worry. I'll do my best. I'm a professional, after all."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You know, the vow you had me swear was rather unnecessary," she commented, idly swinging her leg.

"You think so?"

"He is my cousin. He is _family_," she explained. "And unlike Bellatrix and Narcissa and Draco," she let the distaste she felt for those three creep into her voice. "Harry is actually someone I like. A lot. Someone I feel proud of having as family. And I certainly don't blame him for his mother."

She gave the headmaster a defiant stare. And received a fond smile back.

"I am glad to hear you say that, dear Dora. But we could not know you would feel this way, and the vow was not just because we didn't trust you. You know how it works … it makes it almost impossible for you to say anything wrong by accident, because your magic tries to protect itself."

"True enough," she admitted.

"And of course it protects you from questioning under Veritaserum, too, or other vows that contradict this one."

"All right, I'll agree that the oath was necessary," she said with an annoyed huff.

"However … there remains a way for someone to gain knowledge from you against your will. Directly from your mind. So to further protect you, and our secret ..." he continued, and gave her a speculative look.

"Yes?"

"You should have learned the basics of Occlumency during Auror training, no?"

"Oh, yes. But it's mostly just basic stuff they teach you, unless you either have a talent for it, or you need to protect ministry secrets."

"Which is why I think I should offer you further training, if you would like? It would be to all our benefit if you could really master it," Dumbledore said calmly, though his eyes were calculating. It made her shiver a little. "You will be posing as Harry, after all, and he has always been in danger of abduction and foul play."

"Who would teach me?"

"Either me or Severus, whoever you prefer."

"I'll take you then," she told him after considering the question for a moment. "I do respect Professor Snape, but I don't think I would feel comfortable around him, even if he is Harry's father."

"Certainly, dear Dora. And please call me Albus, at least when you are not pretending to be Harry," he said, and the twinkle was back in his eyes.

"All right," she agreed with a ready smile.

"Remus is the one who will organise meetings and lessons for all of us, so make sure to call on him regularly," he added, and the twinkle grew much more pronounced at seeing her blush.

Damn blushes. Remember you are a professional, Tonks.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry for the longish delay in updates, but I'd run out of finished material, and was also not quite satisfied with the way the story was progressing. And the creative impulses just didn't want to flow properly, either. I'll try to do better again, but updates will definitely be slower on this story, especially since my other story seems to garner more interest. Thanks for the reviews, and I certainly appreciate input. And encouragement, but who doesn't. ;)

oOoOoOoOo


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